


ghost on the wire

by ultranos



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Explicit Language, Multi, References to Torture, Violence, lack of snowmen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 94,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultranos/pseuds/ultranos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her parents died because of a secret, and she fell into the underworld after them.  Now, Anna’s chasing the information that killed them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. protocol_01.00: handshake

It’s raining. Anna huddles down further into her coat and ducks into the open door of the bar. The bartender looks up at her, then turns to deal with her other customers. She’ll get to Anna when she needs to. It doesn’t matter, not really. No one else pays her any mind, not even when she winds her way between tables up to a lone stool in the corner of the bar.

The bar itself is the dark and smoky kind of place that was so normal down here. In this place, Anna looks out of place, her long coat not quite hiding that she’s dressed too nicely to be in this part of the city. Pretty little rich girls from above don’t come down here, not unless they’re running from something.

Elsa is going to kill her.

She taps the metal of the bar top nervously, and the bartender saunters down over to her, raising an eyebrow. Anna bites her lip and ducks her head.

“What’ll it be, sweetheart?” the bartender drawls.

“Um...a beer?”

The eyebrow goes higher. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

Anna fights a blush. She looks around to the taps and points at one. “That one?”

The bartender gives her a look. “All right, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

Anna just wants to curl up smaller on the stool. She stares at the beaten metal of the bar, all shiny and worn from how ever many years of service. At least it’s clean. She jumps a little when a mug full of ale is placed in front of her.

“You want to open a tab?”

“N-no. I’ll...I’ll just pay now.” She fishes around for a credstick, and the woman gives her a sharp look when she hands it over. Not many people down here have that sort of credstick. Another thing that makes her stand out. When the bartender gives it back, her hand lingers for a second, and Anna can read the quiet message in her expression plain as day. _Watch yourself sweetheart, you’re not safe here_.

“You need anything else, just let me know.”

Anna smiles back weakly and the bartender walks off with a single backwards glance. She forces herself to take a sip of the beer and makes a face as the taste hits her tongue. Maybe next time she shouldn’t pick at random.

Her hair drips down the back of her neck, and she pulls the wet coat tighter. The beer doesn’t even burn going down. She’s cold and wet and the smoke from bad cigarettes is starting to irritate her eyes. One of the screens above the bar is showing some soccer game. The captions are in Spanish, which admittedly is better than listening to one of the English-speaking holo-announcers talk. The other screen shows some news program, the ticker on the bottom listing off the usual stocks: Synergen, Halodex, Ichiban-Bijou, Helios, Nestor. Apparently the news story occupying the talking heads is Synergen’s latest train design. It’s irrelevant to the people here, whatever it is.

She lets her gaze move over the rest of the room. It’s mostly workers coming off their late-shift. God only knows where from. They smell of smoke and ozone, of grease and metal. There’s a skiz in the back corner, jacked into the ‘net and possibly blasted out of his mind, eyes glazed and head thrown back against the peeling vinyl of the booth. His friend? boyfriend? is sitting opposite, attention torn between him and the game. He catches her looking and raises his glass in an ironic salute. _Welcome to the rest of your life, you poor bastard._

Anna forces herself to take another sip, this time trying to ignore the taste. It's bad enough that it looks like she doesn't belong here; she'd like to not make it obvious that she doesn't want to be here. Maybe it means she lives longer.

"You know, no one's forcing you to drink that." The man next to her has a nice voice, soft and kind. She looks up. He looks good too, red hair combed neatly, sideburns trimmed. His clothes are worn, but his hands are clean. He smiles at her, reassuring, and Anna lets herself smile weakly back.

“I did pay for it,” she says quietly.

“Still. What’s a girl like you doing all the way down here?”

His smile is gentle. Regardless, she stiffens up. His eyes widen a fraction before he starts backpedaling. “I mean, look, it’s kind of obvious that you’re not from around here.” Before she can curl up into her coat, he continues. “Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just, well, you stand out. And there are people who’d take advantage of that.” He’s smiling, still gentle and earnest. “I hate to see it happen.”

A nice guy all the way down here, in this dingy bar. That’s got to be some kind of rarity. “Right.”

“Okay. Hi. My name is Hans.” He holds up a hand when she looks at him suspiciously. “You don’t have to tell me your name. Really. It’s a good instinct.”

Hans just exudes honesty. It’s dripping from his expressions, and thrumming in the cadence of his words. It’s an earnest charm, backed by the fact that he’s rather easy on the eyes. Anna’s not too proud to admit that. He’s concerned about her safety; she’s a slip of a girl down in a place where she doesn’t really belong. Hell, Anna would have guessed they didn’t make them like him anymore.

But he seems genuine. Their conversation goes back and forth, him going over some basic tips and tricks for staying in one piece down here. He keeps the attention off of her, for the most part. The guy from earlier has his boyfriend hauled up over a shoulder when he tries to catch her attention; Hans sends him scurrying with only a sad backwards glance.

Hans makes it easy. Easy to listen, easy to trust, which seems like it’s in short supply. They talk about everything and nothing, and he never pries deeper than she’s willing to go. So as the night goes on and the bartender stops shooting her looks and shaking her head, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, I know this is awkward and maybe I shouldn’t be asking, but do you have a place tonight?”

Anna shifts uneasily on the stool. She doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to talk about the possibility of a shelter or the streets. She doesn’t have to. Hans picks up on it. “The shelters...they can be kind of rough. And the streets are worse.” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve...I’ve got a place. Well, it’s a hotel room. Wait!” He waves his hands around at her alarmed look. “I mean, I’m leaving tomorrow. Early. I wasn’t even planning on sleeping there tonight. But I can extend it a few days. Just...just so you can have a place for a little while. I won’t even be there.”

It sounds like the stupidest thing she could possibly do, but she’s cold and tired and the promise of a warm bed sounds so very tempting. So she says yes, because Hans is a nice guy and has given her no reason not to trust him.

The hotel he leads her to is old and worn-down, but the room is well-lit and clean. A tablet is in the corner of the desk, on top of a pile of neatly-stacked papers. A briefcase sits closed on the chair.

“I’m going to go get some ice. Make yourself comfortable,” he offers before ducking back through the door and leaving her alone and dripping wet in the middle of the hotel room. Anna pulls her coat tighter and looks around again. A holo-reader sits on the nightstand, carelessly tossed. She walks over to the screen on the wall. There’s nothing but the standard hotel channels.

There’s only one bed.

The door opens. Anna turns her head, and sees that it’s just Hans, back with the ice. He’s got a bottle of water in his other hand. “The tap water sucks,” he says.

Anna smiles weakly. “Thanks. Really. I don’t...I don’t…” She sniffs, hard, the weight of her situation coming down on her like a sack of bricks.

“Hey, hey. It’s going to be all right,” Hans puts the ice and bottle down and draws her into a hug. “Really. I can help you. Just let me.”

Anna sniffs again into his shoulder.

The click of a gun cocking echoes in the ensuing silence.

“What?”

Anna takes a step back, barrel of the gun still pressed to Hans’ breastbone. “You know, the knight-in-shining-armor routine might have actually _worked_ on me, if it was my first night down here. But you’re about three years too late.” He gapes at her, and she digs the barrel in a little deeper. “Yeah, I know all about you, ‘Prince’. Find a girl new down here who doesn’t know the score, play the knight routine, take her someplace ‘safe’.” She nods her head at the water bottle. “What’s the drug you slipped in there? Something that’d leave me strung-out for days, addicted and dependent on you when you come waltzing back to pay off the room. Then I’d be just another junkie willing to do _anything_ to get a hit.”

His face twists in a snarl. “Who the fuck are you?”

Anna grins, wide and feral. God, she hates trash like him. “Nobody. Just another girl. But if you’re so willing to help, well, least I could do is oblige you.” She pushes him backwards with the gun, until his knees hit the bed and he falls back. Anna keeps the gun trained on him, point-blank, right at the heart. “Here’s how this is going to work: I know your game, Prince. And I’m ending it. No more girls. No more drugs and prostitutes. And you tell me what Fisk is.”

“How the fuck do you know about Fisk?” he growls. His handsome face doesn’t look it now, twisted in hate and almost as red as his hair. How he got this far without being able to hold up the mask when things went south, she’ll never know. He stares up at her, but she sees his left hand inching towards the nightstand. Of course he had a gun there.

A bullet whistles past, the silencer muffling the sound of the gunshot. Hans flinches back from the nightstand that has a pretty new bullethole in it. Anna thumbs back the hammer on her second pistol.

“You’re a moron. _Really?_ Let’s try that again. What is Fisk?”

Hans swallows hard enough that Anna can see his Adam’s apple bob. “And what do I get out of this?”

“Right now? How about walking out of here without an extra hole in your head,” she says flatly. She aims the second pistol a bit lower. “Or in other parts of you.”

“Fine! It’s a shell company.” Anna raises an eyebrow. “Shipping and other transport. I don’t know who owns it. I’ve only ever worked with them through Schwartzwald.” He sneers at her. “That’s all I’ve got.”

It’s good enough. It’s what she came here for. “Fine. You get to live. But you aren’t ever going to pull this shit again.”

“Yeah? And how are you going to stop it if you’re not willing to kill me, bitch?”

Anna smiles wide, sharp as a knife. “Simple. I hear one word, and all your data and your face get sent straight to every Fed in a thousand miles. Plus to every gang leader you ever pissed off.” She leans in closer. “Think you can run fast enough, pretty-boy?”

He goes white, and lunges at her, snarling. She’s faster, though, cracking the butt of the gun across his temple. He drops like a stone, out cold.

Anna holsters the guns and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, that was a little messier than I hoped.”

She’d like to torch the place, but the hotel management doesn’t actually deserve that. Instead, she pops the lock on the briefcase, and then grabs the small stack of papers and the tablet on the desk. Elsa might be able to find something else out of them. She stuffs it all into the briefcase, picks it up, and turns the coat inside-out as she walks out of the room. The “new” outer layer is worn and a little dingy. By the time she’s on the street proper, she blends in perfectly with every other person on the street at this hour.

She’s about three blocks away when she turns the sub-vocal microphone and subdural earphone back on, and she braces for the worst.

_“Jesus christ, Anna, what the hell were you thinking?!”_

“Hello to you too, Elsa. So good to hear from you.”

Anna can almost imagine her sister grinding her teeth. _“Don’t give me that. Do you have any idea how worried I was when you had the comms turned off?! All I could do was watch. I had no idea what you were doing. What if you needed backup?”_

“I was fine. I had it under control.”

_“That doesn’t make it better!”_

“Elsa, I had one shot at this. One. And you were offline, and I couldn’t wait.”

_“You know I couldn’t help that.”_ Her voice skips a little, and Anna knows that was a low blow. She winces.

“Yeah, I do. But I had to go tonight.”

_“Why? What was so important that you had to do this without backup?”_

Anna stops and leans against the brick wall of an alley. She feels the cold stone against her back, and she tilts her face up, letting the rain run down her cheeks. It feels good. “Elsa. I got a lead. T dropped me the hint earlier tonight. The asshole was leaving in the morning so I had to go.”

The line is silent for awhile. _“What?”_

“I got a lead, Elsa,” she repeats, breathless and laughing. It’s pouring rain, and she’s just letting herself get soaked, but she really can’t care right now. It was all worth it. Because for the first time in forever, since that night that changed everything three years ago, Anna knows they’re on the right path. “I’m coming to you. We’re going to get you out.”


	2. protocol_01.01: initialize

**Three years ago.**

The funeral was this afternoon. It rained all day. The universe, it seemed, at least got that right. Anna is still dressed in her black mourning outfit, all alone in the empty apartment. Someone from Social Services will be here tomorrow to take her to...wherever it is fifteen-year-old orphans go. And someone else will take care of her parents’ stuff, she doesn’t need to worry her pretty little head about something so _hard._

Anna’s felt like screaming ever since the accident, ever since she was dragged out of class and told by the principal and the guidance counselor with such sad and pitying eyes. _“Anna, we’re sorry, but there’s been an accident…”_

But right now, right now she’s alone and she can curl up in her blanket on her bed and not be under everyone’s watch. She’s all alone and all the pity in the world isn’t going to bring Mama and Papa back. So for the first time since that horrible day, she’s logged on and maybe, maybe she can deal better with sympathies when they’re not staring at her.

Sure enough, Frost is logged in. It’s actually comforting. Frost is _always_ logged in. Ever since they met online over nine years ago, Anna doesn’t remember ever logging on and not seeing Frost. If she’s honest, Frost is probably her best friend, despite the fact that she barely knows anything about the person behind the username. Well, she knows Frost is a girl who’d probably a few years older than her. But Anna doesn’t know where she’s from or what she looks like.

It’d honestly be a little concerning, if Frost hadn’t proved time and time again that she could be Anna’s rock. Within thirty seconds, Frost proves it again.

**Frost:** Anna! Oh my god, are you okay?  
 **Frost:** I heard about the accident. And then you weren’t logged in and...I’m glad you’re here.

Anna winces. She didn’t even think about that. Poor Frost must have been worried for days. It’s funny, how this question, the “are you okay” that she’s heard so many times over the last few days, sounds more sincere coming from words on a screen.

**LaPucelle:** I’m alright. Still here, you know? Sorry I wasn’t on before, couldn’t deal.   
**Frost:** ...   
**Frost:** ...do you...do you want to talk about it?

Yes? No? She sat awkwardly in the guidance counselor’s office when he went through the spiel. Gave him single-word answers because, really, what could she say? That she was sad? Well, _duh._

**LaPucelle:** I’ve done that so much already. It’s just not gonna bring them back. They went out, the car went out of control and bam, flew off the skybridge. It’s just so...stupid and pointless and they’re gone and not coming back.

There was a long pause.

**Frost:** I’m sorry.

Anna feels both guilty and relieved. Relieved to get it finally off her chest, but guilty that it took her venting it all over her poor internet friend. Her internet friend she didn’t even know the _name_ of.

**LaPucelle:** I should be the one saying that. I just dumped all that on you.   
**Frost:** No, it’s okay. I did ask.   
**Frost:** Better...better to talk about it, right?   
**LaPucelle:** I just miss them. I miss them and they’re gone and there’s no one left.  
 **LaPucelle:** Everyone’s just patting me on the head and acting sad but no one wants me around. They’ll take Mama and Papa’s stuff, but I’m just useless.  
 **LaPucelle:** I think you’re the only one who actually MEANT it.  
 **LaPucelle:** You’re all I have, Frost.

And she doesn’t even know who Frost is. How sad is that?

Frost is silent for a long time. Anna’s almost afraid that she finally scared her off. That even Frost has a limit to how much drama she’ll put up with, how much of Anna’s shit she has time for.

**Frost:** Anna, do you trust me?

There’s no hesitation.

**LaPucelle:** Of course.  
 **Frost:** No, seriously. Anna, _do you trust me?_

Anna stares at that chat window. It feels like she’s standing on a cliff or a bridge. There’s two paths she can take. And she doesn’t know what’s below her.

But there really was only one answer.

**LaPucelle:** Yes.   
**LaPucelle:** I trust you, Frost.   
**LaPucelle:** I always have.

Frost is again quiet. It’s strange. While Anna often dominates their conversations, Frost usually doesn’t let them go quiet like this. It adds an extra weight to everything, and she doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. But before Anna can add anything, though, Frost finally responds.

**Frost:** Your parents didn’t die in an accident. They were murdered.

The bottom drops out from the world.

**LaPucelle:** Wait, what? Frost what   
**Frost:** Anna, you have to _trust me_. Your parents were murdered. _You’re not safe here._

Anna can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. She knows Frost isn’t joking. Frost can’t be joking. She would never, ever joke like this. But how? How can this even be real?

**LaPucelle:** How do you   
**Frost:** I looked. It didn’t sound right. So I dug. And it doesn’t matter because you have to listen to me. You have to get out of there.   
**LaPucelle:** Frost I trust you okay? But how. I need to know how you know.

It hurts to watch that blinking cursor in the chat window. Her lungs are burning, because she can barely breathe. It’s like when she was a kid and out in the snow, when the air was so cold it hurt to pull it into her lungs.

**Frost:** I know because they were looking for me.   
**Frost:** Your parents were killed because they were trying to find me.   
**Frost:** It’s my fault.   
**Frost:** And the people who killed them are going to be after you now.

Oh god. Oh god. She should have asked before. Why did she never think to ask who her friend was? What...was Frost that dangerous? Why were her parents looking for her? What is going on? There’s layers of secrets here, and Anna just got thrown in the deep end.

**LaPucelle:** Who ARE you Frost?

Because she has to know now. Because she still does trust her friend, but there’s a limit. And Anna’s pretty sure she’s earned this much, at least. Because what Frost is telling her now...she has to _know._

**Frost:** My name is Elsa.  
 **Frost:** I’m your sister, Anna.

Grief burns away as her temper flares red-hot. It races through her, flashing in her muscles and bones, twisting in her stomach. Suddenly, Anna is _angry_. How dare she? How _dare_ she do this? She _trusted_ her.

**LaPucelle:** Don’t you dare. Don’t you DARE say that. Elsa is DEAD.  
 **LaPucelle:** You DO NOT get to use her!

She’s shaking. She should just log off. Never speak to Frost again. Because Anna remembers, she remembers long nights spent crying until she couldn’t anymore, dreams of fire and screaming metal, and waking up tasting ash and fuel. She remembers catching herself knocking on a door that no one would ever answer again, remembers Mama and Papa moving like zombies through their lives. She remembers clutching to Papa’s coat, the smell of his jacket, as they made her say goodbye to a too-small coffin.

Frost does _not_ get to use Anna’s forever-eight-years-old big sister.

**Frost:** There was a car accident. I last saw you when you were five. Your hair was barely long enough to put into pigtails.  
 **LaPucelle:** Fuck you.

Anna grits her teeth. She doesn’t have to put up with this. Frost can go fuck herself. If she’s even a girl. Anna moves her cursor to block the asshole forever when Frost starts typing very, _very_ quickly. As if she knows this is her last chance.

**Frost:** Do you remember, you must have been four, when you wanted to build a snowman in the middle of July? And you were throwing a tantrum and crying because you just wanted a snowman and not a sandcastle?  
 **Frost:** And our parents sent you to your room. And I snuck in with two sand buckets full of crushed ice and a baking pan and we sat in the middle of the floor and built a tiny snowman on the tray.

It’s impossible. It’s just not possible. Anna can’t breathe, it’s impossible to breathe, and she can feel her eyes pricking. She thought she had no more tears left. But she thought a lot of things.

**Frost:** And then we   
**LaPucelle:** And then we shared a chocolate bar you’d been saving since Easter.   
**Frost:** Yeah.   
**LaPucelle:** I never told ANYONE about that.   
**Frost:** I know.

It was one of those memories that Anna kept close to her heart, locked away forever. The only way Frost — _Elsa_ — could know is if she is Elsa. If her sister was back from ten years dead.

Her screen seems blurry, and her face is wet, but Anna couldn’t care less.

**LaPucelle:** It’s just oh my god Elsa. You’re ALIVE.   
**Frost:** I’m sorry.    
**Frost:** I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.

And that’s it, isn’t it? Anna’s known Frost for over nine years, but never once knew who she really was. On some level, it makes sense, that Frost was her rock all this time and turns out to be the one person who’s been there all her life. It explains why there was that instinctual trust, even from the first chat. But ten years is a long time to let the person you talk to every night think you’re dead.

To say nothing of why Elsa never came home. She let them all think she was _dead_. There was a funeral. Anna _mourned_ Elsa, never stopped mourning her. And now, after losing her parents too, to find out she’s still alive?

**LaPucelle:** What the hell, Elsa! You let us think you were dead! Where were you?   
**Frost:** I had no choice.   
**Frost:** I’m trapped.   
**Frost:** Mother and Father were trying to save me. And they got _killed_ for it.   
**LaPucelle:** I don’t understand. Where are you?   
**Frost:** I don’t know.   
**Frost:** I remember the crash. I pushed you out of the car. I don’t remember getting clear of the wreck. I must have passed out, because when I woke up I...you and Mother and Father were gone. And I was...elsewhere.   
**LaPucelle:** Where? Elsa, WHERE?   
**Frost:** _I don’t know where I am._ I...   
**Frost:** ...I’ve been stuck here for a long time.

The words are like a hammer, shattering the last her anger. She’s been lost for ten years, trapped and alone for all that time. Anna can barely handle staying in her room by herself for ten hours. But where? Where is her sister?

**LaPucelle:** How are you talking to me, then? How did you find me?   
**Frost:** ...   
**Frost:** ...there’s...a network here. I’m cut-off from most of it. But I broke through some of their firewalls and security, enough to let me out into the wider Net.   
**Frost:** As for how I found you...well, you’re my little sister. I’ll always find you, Anna.

There’s a warmth that spreads through her, from her heart all the way to her fingers and toes. It’s like coming into a warm house and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket after wandering around for hours in a blizzard. Anna reads the words and can almost imagine her sister’s voice again. Except Elsa isn’t forever eight-years-old, her voice would no longer be high and childish. She imagines that voice tempered and smoothed by adolescence, the eternal child now replaced with an _eighteen_ -year-old.

Elsa never left Anna, never let a little thing like being _legally dead_ stop her from being there.

**LaPucelle:** Did you tell Mama and Papa?   
**Frost:** I...no. I didn’t. The people who have me...I couldn’t find much, but they _scared_ me.   
**Frost:** Killing people for knowing too much is the least they can do.   
**Frost:** I was scared. Scared of what they would do to you, to our parents.   
**Frost:** I could hide behind Frost. That had to be enough. As long as...as long as you were safe.   
**LaPucelle:** But it wasn’t.   
**Frost:** No. Mother and Father...I don’t know how, but they figured out that they’d been lied to. That I wasn’t actually dead. That I’d been, well, kidnapped.   
**Frost:** I suspect they didn’t take it well.

Now that she thinks about it, she remembers a slightly desperate intensity around Papa’s eyes from weeks ago. She caught Mama crying silently in her study, but Mama waved her off, said it was nothing. If this is what it was, her sister has not lost her skill for understatement.

**Frost:** I didn’t realize, I didn’t know until it was too late.   
**Frost:** I couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t save them.   
**Frost:** But I can save you. Anna, you have to get _out of there_.   
**Frost:** Because now you know and they will _kill you_.   
**LaPucelle:** Social services is supposed to be here tomorr   
**Frost:** No. Do _not_ go with them. You’ll be dead in 24 hours.

Anna doesn’t even pretend Elsa might be exaggerating.

**LaPucelle:** Then what? There’s no one else to go with.

And that’s the sad truth. All of her parents’ friends, for all their pretty words, they’ve left her here by herself. No one could be bothered to care for her, to care about her. Suddenly, Anna understands what Frost — Elsa, it’s Elsa, ElsaElsaElsa — is so afraid of. She’s got no one now. No one who will care if she ends up missing or dead. No one except Elsa, and Elsa can’t be here by her own admission.

Anna is going to have to save herself first.

**Frost:** You’re going to have to disappear. Fall into the undercity and vanish.   
**Frost:** Take only what you can carry. And leave tonight.

The undercity. The lower levels, far away from the gentrified heights of the skyscrapers and skyways. The place good girls don’t go, unless they have no choice. She’s heard the stories, of the crime and the hookers and junkies. Of the gangs and blacksiders, of the lost and abandoned and forgotten in the wastelands below the shining towers.

It’s been a cautionary tale staple of school hallways for years. Anna should be, by all rights, terrified to go there. That she’s going to have to fall.

**Frost:** I’ll help you. As much as I can. I’m not leaving you alone again.

But she’s not. She can do this. She will do this. Because Anna wants to live. And, she realizes as she’s throwing sturdy clothes and any cash she can in a backpack, along with food and water and her tablet, because she wants to do what her parents died trying to.

Anna wants to save her sister.

The night of her parents’ funeral, a fifteen-year-old girl leaves her family’s apartment. By the time anyone tries looking for her, she’s vanished completely. Her disappearance is a minor note on a news site five days later.


	3. protocol_01.02: echo request

Elsa had gotten all intense after Anna told her about the lead on Fisk and Schwartzwald. Anna had spent at least an hour scanning in all the papers she’d absconded with from Hans’ hotel room, as well as hooking up his electronic devices to network jacks in her apartment. Elsa, unsurprisingly, dove into all the data and hasn’t really surfaced yet.

Which leaves Anna up to her own devices. Which, at the moment, meant she was hanging around T’s bar and watching the crowd. T has been down in the undercity for a very long time, probably born down here. She’d set up this place through grit and hard work, and everyone who spent any amount of time here knew it. Sanctuary was _the_ blacksider bar in this sector, and considered by many to be the best in the undercity. It wasn’t just the food or drink, even though T’s was top-notch, even better than some of the restaurants Anna had visited with her parents. No, the fact of the matter is that almost whatever it was you needed, you could find it at Sanctuary. Jobs, contracts, information, black market merchants, you name it. Only rules were no drugs, no prostitution, no fighting, and above all, T’s word was law.

It really only took one idiot once _ever_ to nail it home that T _really_ wasn’t kidding when she said that.

Anna had arrived Sanctuary within the first few days of her fall into the undercity. She had been incredibly lucky Elsa had found it, because T had taken one look at the dirty, scared, and tired teenager on her doorstep and that was pretty much it. She owed the older woman a lot, both she and Elsa did.

“Arc, if you are just going to sit there wasting time, you can work.” T thrusts a mop and bucket into her hands. Anna sighs. Which is why T is probably one of the only people in the world who can get away with ordering a blacksider like her around like a wayward child.

“Aw, come on, T. I was working last night,” she whines a little. “If I order a drink, will you let me off the hook?”

T takes the mop and bucket back and sets them in a corner. “Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to serve you those.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” Anna grins brightly.

The older woman shakes a finger at her. “I swear to god, Arc, you are going to be the death of me.” She’s smiling, though, teeth bright against dark skin, eyes warm. “That smart mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one of these days.”

“That’s pretty much _every_ day.”

“Least you’re honest.” T shakes her head fondly. “Now, I’m assuming it went well last night?”

Anna nods. “Yeah, thanks for the tip. Rime wasn’t too pleased about the timing, but I managed. Got the info we needed. She’s puzzling over god knows what with it now.”

“Right. Of course she is. You ever gonna drag that skiz friend of yours out to meet us?”

The tone is teasing, but Anna still frowns. “She’s not a skiz.”

T levels her a flat look. She turns slightly to a Chinese woman lounging further down the bar. “Hey Doc, need a medical opinion over here?” The woman raises an eyebrow. “What do you call someone who’s apparently jacked into the Net all the time, all hours of the day, and never once in three years has shown her face to daylight?”

“Do you really need an answer to that?” Doc drawls.

Anna scowls and bites her lip. “Rime’s not a skiz. I mean, yeah, she always seems to be online, but she doesn’t have the other signs.” She shakes her head. “You know, the lack of focus, the disorientation, the sociopathic tendencies and all that. You know how _weird_ it is talking to a skiz even online. Rime’s not like that. At all.”

Doc looks thoughtful. “She’s got a point there.”

_“I hope you know I can hear you all.”_ Elsa’s voice is dry as a desert in Anna’s ear. Anna slaps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, even though it’s useless.

“She can hear us, can’t she?” T shakes her head. “Rime, it’s only polite to talk to the rest of us.”

_“But it’s more amusing this way.”_ Now Elsa’s voice is coming from a small speaker underneath the bar, probably attached to one of the registers.

“I don’t even want to know _how_ you got access to that machine.”

_“You know I would never dream of messing with your accounts, T.”_ She sounds a little hurt. T’s expression softens.

“Of course, Rime. I was only teasing.” She clears her throat. “Arc was saying she got you some decent intel?”

_“Yes. Still working on it. On an entirely unrelated note, Prince is a piece of work.”_

Doc’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline. “You got dirt on Prince? I’d love to see that asshole put away.”

Now that’s something you don’t hear from Doc every day. Anna leans on the bar, moving in closer. “Oh?”

She shakes her head. “Some of the people who’ve come to me after he’d gotten his claws into them...trust me, detox and trauma is never a pretty combination. Even less when you’re putting kids back together.”

Anna goes white at the thought. “I should have shot him anyway,” she growls.

_“And then we would have had three more take his place.”_ Elsa sounds calm, calmer than Anna knows she probably is. Sometimes, she envies her sister’s ability to always sound exactly as she wants. _“Blackmail was the way to go.”_

“Still should have shot him a little,” Anna grumbles.

_“Next time, I promise maybe you can shoot him, if it makes you feel better. Can you let it go now?”_ Elsa says into her earphone, sarcasm dripping from every word. Anna shakes her head in exasperation. Dork.

“How long is it going to take you?” T asks, dragging the conversation back around.

_“A while,”_ Elsa admits. _“There’s a lot and even more connections to chase down.”_ Anna catches Doc wincing in sympathy. Intel might be invaluable, but no one here wanted to be the one sifting through it. Anna admits that her career as a blacksider wouldn’t be nearly as lucrative if she didn’t have Elsa willing and able to do a lot of the deskwork.

“I thought as much.” T crosses her arms and leans her hip against the bar. “Which is why I’ve got a job for you to do in the mean time.”

Anna bolts up fast enough that she nearly falls off the stool. “What?”

T raises an eyebrow. “I’m not letting you just loiter around my bar while Rime does all the work.” Before Anna can squawk in protest at this completely unfair assessment, she continues. “Unless you want to spend that time mopping, Arc.”

Elsa is at least kind enough to _not_ snicker aloud. Doc is not and chuckles at Anna’s face. Anna proves that she is an equally mature adult and sticks her tongue out at the woman before responding. “No, no. Job is fine. Please not the mop.”

“Yeah, that’s not surprising.” T reaches into her apron and pulls out a datastick she tosses to Anna. “It’s a two-person job, though.”

“Okay, so...what? There’s me and there’s Rime. Two people, no problem.”

T shakes her head. “No, I mean two physical people. You’re going to need another person. No offense, Rime.”

_“None taken.”_

Anna pulls a face. Working with other people is always a crapshoot. Some of them object to working with a teenager. Others are sexist jerks. But the absolute worst are the people who think Rime didn’t exist. That Anna just works alone because that’s all they saw. She _hates_ it when people dismiss Elsa.

The worst part is that Elsa just lets it go. She’d not bother joining in on the shared comm channel, and just let Anna take all the credit. She’s fine with being ignored, unnoticed. That she never gets acknowledgement for all the work she does, how much Arc’s reputation as a blacksider depends on _Rime’s_ abilities. As if it’s nothing new, nothing to make a fuss about. Anna doesn’t like what that says about how her sister had been living.

“Great. Where am I supposed to get someone?”

T raises an eyebrow and gestures expansively at the room. “You are in a blacksider bar. The world, it is your oyster.”

Anna rolls her eyes.

“Take Adze, if you want a rec,” says Doc. Anna spins to look at her, but can’t decipher her expression. “He’s good people. Been working with me in the clinic on his off-time. Good enough shot, and he’s got steady hands and steadier nerves.”

Doc doesn’t give out praise like that lightly. “How would he react to working with Rime and me?”

“He should be fine with it.” Doc grins quickly, sharp as scalpels. “And if he isn’t, let me know.”

Anna nods slowly. “All right. If you say he’s good, that’s good enough for me.”

“I’ll call him over.” With that, she pulls out a phone.

“The stick should have all the details. I’m point-of-contact for the client, standard arrangement, so just report back to me when its done.” T’s words are rote, Anna’s so used to them, but listening to them as she watches the woman wipe down the bar settles something inside her. It happens every time, like T’s words are a cloak of professionalism Anna wraps around herself.

“You okay with running mission control while data trawling?” she asks subvocally. Elsa had said there was a lot, and even after all this time, she doesn’t know where her sister’s limits are.

_“Always. Don’t worry about it.”_ The response is soft in her ear, just for her. She can’t help herself from worrying, at times. She doesn’t understand half the stuff Elsa does, but she does know that her sister does it better than most people. She can’t help but think about T’s comment about being a skiz. It’s not possible, because Elsa’s too put together for that, way too focused on things. But as far as she knows, she’s still been doing nothing but data analysis since last night. She has to sleep sometime, right?

There’s really no time to worry about that now, though. If Elsa says she’s fine, then Anna’s just going to have to trust her.

“Do you have an extra comm set? I’m probably not going to have a chance to run back and get a spare,” Anna asks. T nods, pulls something else out from under the bar, and tosses it to her. Anna’s worked behind that bar. She still has no idea where T keeps half this stuff. “Awesome.” She stuffs the comm in a pocket. Elsa will be able to key it to a secure channel when they need it. Whether or not Elsa will actually use it to talk to this Adze is up in the air. Anna’s never really sure why she chooses what she does.

It’s the heavy tread of workboots on Sanctuary’s wood floor that breaks her train of thought, not the deep voice that follows it.

“Hey Doc. Said you had a job for me?”

Anna spins around on the stool and stares at her prospective new partner. He’s big: tall and broad shouldered and extremely well-muscled beneath his thin dark shirt and tac vest. A mess of blond hair sticks out from under the black-knit cap on his head. She can see at two pistols in shoulder-holsters underneath the vest and the outline of at least two knives on his pants. Good, at least she doesn’t have to worry about arming him. An exceedingly fluffy black-and-tan dog sits on its haunches by his side, tongue lolling.

Well then.

“I did. Adze, meet Arc and Rime. Arc and Rime, this is Adze. The dog is Sven.”

Adze blinks. “Okay.”

“Arc here has the info,” says T as she wipes her hands on a towel. “You’re free to use one of the back rooms.” She makes shooing motions.

“Well, you heard her. Let’s go.” With that, Anna hops of the stool and strolls over to the back of the bar. The heavy footfalls tell her that Adze has at least decided to follow her. She’d be worried about showing her back to a stranger, but one, he’s one of Doc’s, and two, she’s in Sanctuary. No one would be dumb enough to touch her under T’s roof.

Which is why T gave her the use of one of her back rooms. The set-up here is pretty sweet, with soundproof and mostly-bug-proof walls and doors, a secure line to the Net, and a large holodeck table in the middle of the room. “Mostly” bug-proof, because Anna knows for a fact that Elsa’s managed to worm into one at least once. Considering it ended up that the people she spied on were plotting on getting revenge on Anna for a job of theirs that went south, T had more words to say to _them_ than about Rime’s circumvention of her security.

She throws herself into a nearby chair as Adze closes the door behind Sven, watching the two carefully. “Right. So, I’m Arc.”

“So I heard. Nice to meet you,” he drawls as he sits down across from her. The dog sits next to him, eyes trained on her.

Anna forces herself to remain in a fake-casual pose. She hates this next bit, but it’s better to get it out of the way first. Then she can figure out how well this “partnership” is going to work. “Before we get to anything else, let’s just agree on payment split first. That way, there are no surprises.”

Adze blinks. “I figured it would be a standard three-way split.”

“You...you’re all right with that?”

He looks baffled. “Why wouldn’t I be? There are two of you, right? That’s what Doc said.”

“It’s just, well, some people have...issues with Rime.”

“Well, why would I? I assume they’re going to show up soon, or is it just me and you doing this?” he says as he absently scratches the top of Sven’s head.

_“Give him the extra comm, so we can do this properly.”_

“You sure about that?” Anna asks subvocally.

_“Well, this way, it at least looks like I’m polite, instead of breaking the encryption on his secure phone.”_ A pause. _“Also, remind me to upgrade that algorithm for him and Doc, it’s a piece of junk.”_

Anna nearly chokes holding back a snicker at Elsa’s utterly offended tone. “Here,” she manages, slightly breathless, handing over the comm. “This will make things easier.”

Adze looks at it a little dubiously, but puts it on anyway.

_“Hello Adze. This is Rime.”_

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I’m guessing that means you’re not showing up.”

_“No, not really. I...generally work in the background on these jobs.”_ Another pause. _“Arc, if you would put the datastick in, that would be helpful.”_

Anna rolls her eyes and plugs the datastick she got into the holodeck.

“Don’t you need the network ID to see what we’re looking at?”

_“No.”_ “No.”

Anna smirks. Adze blinks again. Yeah, it’s been awhile since she and Elsa pulled this particular dynamic off. She’s missed it. He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, eyeing her carefully. Anna matches him stare-for-stare until Elsa breaks the silence.

_“Right, okay. So this is what we got.”_ A modestly-sized translucent warehouse appears on the holodeck. _“Warehouse in the Docks, owned by Instrex, which is apparently a minor division of Nestor. Who knew? Anyway, there’s a package in container RA43-56. Client wants it retrieved before it goes on the boat tomorrow.”_ A shipping container within the warehouse starts flashing green.

“So, standard smash-and-grab?” Anna asks, although she figures there has to be more to it. T wouldn’t have said it was a two-physical-person job if it was this easy.

_“You wish.”_ A series of red dots appear on the holo. _“Apparently, our client pissed off the Green Street Boys.”_ Anna groans. _“Through...oh that was stupid. From what I just dug up, he welched out on a deal with Ixion. Guess who wants the package to get on that boat.”_

“Are you serious?” Anna falls back against the chair and flops a hand over her face. “Dammit T...”

“Did you just figure all that out?” Adze is looking at the holo in disbelief. “That fast?”

“Rime’s good.”

“Yeah, I got that. But there’s ‘good’, and then there’s ‘insanely good’.” He looks impressed. “I’m going to guess that most of that wasn’t on the stick.”

_“No. T must have wheedled out enough intel to guess this needed more than one active blacksider.”_ Anna imagines her sister grumbling under her breath, she sounds so offended. _“It’s a good thing the money on this job is high enough, because the intel on the stick is not.”_ The holo of the warehouse rotates a bit and the red dots start flashing. “ _These are the most-likely places Green Street will put their people.”_

Adze gets up and peers at the holo. “Makes sense. They get coverage of all the major sightlines if they put people in half of these.” He rubs a palm on his face. “This is going to suck.”

“Adze, what’s your specialty?”

He looks up at Anna. “Long- and medium-range. If we can afford to swing by Doc’s, I can grab my rifle. What about you?”

“Medium-range and close-quarters.” Adze raises an eyebrow. “I’m serious!”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not doubting you! I think doubting either of you two would be hazardous to my health at this point.”

Anna huffs and turns back to the holo. She bites her lip. Their specialties work could work really well together, especially with Elsa acting as mission control. It’s about the only thing that gives her faith that they can pull this off. Maybe... “Rime, what are my possible entrances?”

_“Thought you’d ask that.”_ Certain parts of the warehouse flash blue. The only one that doesn’t suck in at least ten different ways is on the roof.

“Oh goddammit, are you serious? The roof?” It’s not that she can’t climb, she just hates it. Especially since she’ll have to free climb this one, or do stupid parkour tricks to building hop, but that would likely make her a target.

Adze checks that particular spot. “It’s outside their sightlines. What’s the entrance?”

_“Vent shaft.”_

“I really, really hate you sometimes.”

“What about me?”

_“Not as familiar with your abilities, so give me a second.”_ There’s a long pause. _“Based on what you said, it might be best if you act as long-range support.”_ Another area of the roof flashes yellow. _“There should be a skylight here, with decent cover from the HVAC system. You have a silencer for that rifle?”_

“Yeah.”

_“If we can grab a rigging kit and tie you in, you can take out pretty much anyone on both levels, and you could rappel down if Arc gets in trouble. If you’re up for it.”_

He looks thoughtful. “Yeah, I think that could work.” He tilts his head towards the dog, who’s now lying on the floor with his head on his paws. “What about Sven?”

_“Lookout, if he can do it? You’re going to be separated, but he might notice something I can’t from the security cameras.”_

Adze kneels down and rubs Sven behind the ears. Anna can’t help but smile. “Yeah, he can do that.” He looks up. “You going to run control for us, Rime?”

_“And interference if I have to. This channel is secure, so I’ll be on-comm the entire time.”_

He nods slowly and stands up. “I think we can do this.” His lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile as he holds out his hand. “You up for it?”

This? This might actually work out. Anna grins. “I was born ready.”


	4. protocol_01.03: interconnection

The Docks at night are far creepier than they are during the day, but that really isn’t saying much. It’s an industrial part of town, by the edge of the water obviously, but the high rises and overhangs and sky bridges criss-crossing the Upper City blot out much of the daylight anyway. Like most of the undercity, it’s the difference between night and an artificial twilight. But it’s worse by the Docks. Maybe it’s the spots across the horizon, where you can actually see the sun, taunting you. Maybe it’s the rusted metal and crumbling warehouses, kept in use as much as they’re able with money going to line people’s pockets instead of actually keeping up the buildings. Maybe it’s the desperate eyes of the homeless squatters hiding in what shelters they can, dodging gangs and bullets until they can’t anymore.

No, the worst part is the smell.

Polluted brine filled with rotting algae, the smell blown in from off the water mixes with chemical fumes and rotten blood. Mix that in with night and meager light from broken streetlights, and Anna wishes she was almost anyplace else.

“Why can’t people give us jobs nice places? Like antique stores. Or sunny beaches,” she mutters under her breath. She hears Adze’s snort from behind her. He steps lighter when he’s on the job than when he’s not. Sven too trails behind them, trotting softly.

_“Maybe you can pass that on to T next time. I’m sure it will have no detrimental effect on the number of job offers we get.”_

“Ugh, _you_ at least don’t have to _smell_ this.” Anna picks her way through the shadows, dodging the puddles of light that are few and far between. The last thing she wants is to get spotted by some kid running with the Green Street Boys before this op even begins.

_“...yeah, well. You’re almost there.”_

And they were, right as they turn the last corner, they see the warehouse sitting right at the end of the alley. Elsa’s directions have them coming up the back way, on the side with the papered windows and crumbling brick, closest to another building so that they can hide in the shadows. Anna scurries across, trusting Adze is following. She runs a hand along the brick. Some comes loose in her hand, but it stays pretty solid when she digs her hand in for a hold. For a wild second, she wishes she had chalk, but white hand prints are a bit obvious, even for the Docks.

“Want a boost?” Adze’s voice comes over the comm as he steps up next to her. Good, he knows that it’s a subvocal. God only knows how many jobs sent south because the people she was working with were too stupid to realize. She glances back and sees Sven padding off into the darkened alley. She looks up questioningly at Adze. “Sven knows what to do. He’ll watch the perimeter. If you hear barking, something went wrong.” He grins a little.

“Kinda figured that.” She tilts her head back to check the wall. “And yeah, I’ll take that help.”

He crouches down to give her a foothold and she uses him as a springboard to nab a handhold on one of the covered windows halfway up. She’s able to clamber up the wall the rest of the way, and once she’s on the roof, she anchors and then drops the rope down to help Adze up.

The roof thankfully has one of those high edges so they can’t be seen from below as long as they crouch down. Mindful of the gravel, Anna makes her way over to the HVAC vent shaft Elsa indicated while Adze does a crouch-shuffle across to his planned sniper nest. Once she’s there, she unscrews the cover, which was mostly broken anyway, and pulls on a thin pair of gloves. No sense getting friction burns from shafting. As she does, she eyes the entrance route her sister’s given her.

It’s small, but as far as shafts she’s had to go through, it’s not the worst. Sometimes, she wonders if Elsa makes a game of finding the most unlikely route that Anna can still squirm through. It’s about the only time her size works _for_ her instead of the other way around. Maybe that’s why her sister does it.

“Have I mentioned I really do hate you when you make me do this?”

_“Shut up and keep moving. My camera feed inside is not the best.”_

Anna pauses. “You sure we should continue? Do you need me to use a corm?” She always carries one of the little devices Elsa designed and had made for her, for when someone was actually clever and had a system not connected to the Net. Slap on a corm, though, and she’d be able to piggyback onto it and get inside anything that used anything bigger than a logic chip. If the warehouse had an isolated camera system...

_“Yes. I’m sure. Keep moving. I’m working on getting a better feed.”_

She goes, shimmying down the shaft until she reaches the grate she wants. There doesn’t seem to be anyone right below it. Still, she hasn’t lived this long by taking stupid chances. “Need a ping.”

“I’ve got five marked,” Adze rumbles. “None of them are by you.”

_“There are at least two more I’ve seen, but they’re on the opposite side of the warehouse, lower level. You’re clear, Arc.”_

Anna quietly removes the grate and drops down, silent as a cat, and immediately ducks behind a shipping crate.

She takes a moment to settle herself, to let regulate her breathing and descend into that state of focus, where everything becomes sweet and sharp. Getting into that state still wasn't automatic, despite the years of dropping into it all the time. Her approach is hodgepodge, thrown together by necessity, no training. It works, though, and it's getting easier. She'll take it.

She ghosts up behind the first lookout as she dances through the shadows of the shipping containers. Might as well keep this stealthy as long as possible, she thinks as she slides one forearm around his throat and throws the other across his chest to pin his arms, twisting one leg and dropping her hips to knock him off-balance and fully into the technique. He's too startled to fight the hold, much less scream, and the hard pressure on his carotid artery has him out in under ten seconds.

"One down."

"Make that two," she hears from Adze as she moves forward to the target. He must have gotten the skylight open, given the lack of shattering glass.

The next one she won't be able to get into the chokehold, so she doesn't even try. There's no way she can subdue him before he raises an alarm, and even with Adze up above, five-to-one odds are not her idea of a good time. And sniper rifles are not generally renowned for their non-lethalness. So Anna clenches her jaw and pulls her knife. She tries to ignore the blood as she carves his neck open, his dying scream drowned out on it. This never gets easier, even when she knows the people she kills would do the same or worse to her given half a chance.

"Three."

She continues on, avoiding stepping in the mess she made and picking her way across the warehouse floor. She’s close.

“Four.” Another falls to Adze’s shot, and still no one’s been alerted to their presence. If this is Doc’s definition of “good enough”, she wonders what “actually good” is. She’s almost there.

_“Oh **fishsticks**.”_ Elsa’s voice sends her diving for the shadows. _“Arc! Ixion is **here**.”_

Anna will give her sister shit about her complete inability to swear when she’s not freaking out. “What?!” she barely manages subvocally. “Couldn’t you have told us that before we walked in here?”

_“I told you the camera feed was crap. So no. I couldn’t.”_

“What the hell is she doing here?” Adze demands.

_“Guarding the package herself it looks like.”_

Fantastic.

Ixion is not someone one takes on lightly. The fact that she’s the leader of the Green Street Boys is only half of it. The half where she’s a stone-cold, sadistic _psychopath_ is the part Anna’s more concerned about. She’s only heard rumors, but the woman clawed her way up to the top of the gang in very short order, and every ex-Green Street shuddered at her name. Well, until they couldn’t, because all of them ended up dead in very short order. In a very messy fashion.

“Okay. Give me the dossier, Rime.”

Because of course Elsa had it. _“Pertinent parts: she’s fast and a sadist. She’ll want to make you bleed before she puts you down. She favors knives, and oh, how charming: rumor has it she’s replaced her arms with cybernetic ones that she can electrify. Judging from the battery pack I can see under her coat, it’s likely true. Basically, don’t get hit if you can help it.”_

“Of course. Thank you for that advice.”

“Five.” At least Adze is taking care of the rest. They don’t have much time until someone notices.

_“You said you had a corm?”_

“Yeah.”

_“If you can get it on her, I should be able to help.”_

“You want me to get close enough to slap it _on_ her? What happened to not getting hit?” But Anna’s already pulling out her ceramic knives, the ones she keeps around for when she needs to do something stupid like stab a cyborg and doesn’t want to get electrocuted. This is just...more than that. Okay, she can do this.

_“Arc. Be careful.”_

“I’m always careful.” Anna pokes her head around her cover and spots a long black coat moving past. Time to go.

_“That’s what I’m afraid of,_ ” Elsa mutters as Anna moves. She’s got a shot at this, she thinks as she lunges, knives out, at Ixion’s back.

Almost a hair too late, Ixion spins around. Anna slices through leather only, and falls into a roll to absorb the impact. She’s back on her feet and in a defensive stance almost immediately. Dammit.

Ixion’s eyes nearly glow green in the lighting. The woman’s blonde hair is so slicked back, Anna wonders if she has to worry about being blinded by the glare. Her grin is savage as she pulls eight knives, four per hand, settled between her fingers like claws, out. “So you’re the blacksider Dominic hired.” Anna can see the speculative gleam in Ixion’s eye as the woman gives her a once-over. “Tried to take me out from behind. I can admire that.”

Anna dodges the knife as it flies past her head, and she’s pretty sure she lost some hair from that. Dammit.

“But I’m still going to make you _bleed_ ,” Ixion hisses before leaping. Anna manages to catch Ixion’s knives with hers, gritting her teeth as she holds up under the other woman’s weight. The knives start sparking. Yep, Ixion’s arms are definitely conductive.

Anna twists, breaking the the grapple and getting out of the way. A quick slash at Ixion when she’s off balance catches her coat again, slicing it off at the sleeve and clangs against the metal arm. She’d been hoping cybernetics were the cheap kind that the ceramics could damage, but no such luck.

“Shit. Arc, I can’t get a clear shot on her!” Adze sounds frustrated. She doesn’t blame him, because, oh my god, seriously what is this bullshit? Anna blocks another set of Ixion’s furious slashes. Defensive work here is only going to get her so far, but one solid hit from Ixion, and she’s down.

“Get the others!” she growls.

The other woman smiles, all teeth and promising pain. “How noble.”

“Yeah, well, that’s me all over,” she hisses, kicking out to break her stance. Ixion dances back neatly, then leaps forward. Anna ducks and stabs one knife up, catching Ixion’s wrist and jamming the joint. Ixion drops the knives as a reflex, but recovers and twists in midair, catching the offending knife and tearing it out of Anna’s grip and sending it skittering across the floor.

“You’re going to pay for that.” Ixion clenches her sparking hand.

“Promises, promises.” Dammit, Anna’s got one knife to Ixion’s four, and she still needs to plant the corm.

“Shit! Arc! I lost the last one! He’s headed your way!” Of course he is.

Her hand goes for the pistol anyway. Ixion tries a leap again, but Anna’s ready for her and snaps her foot out, catching the woman under the chin and flipping her away.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s some kind of battle awareness. Maybe divine providence. Whatever it is, Anna feels the hairs on the back of her neck raise, turns her head around, and finds herself staring down the barrel of the seventh’s gun. She brings her pistol up, snaps off a shot that hits him square in the chest. He starts to fall, but even here, she can see his finger pulling the trigger.

Until his hand is blown off by a well-placed sniper bullet. Steady hands, said Doc. Shit, she wasn’t kidding.

Anna pulls the trigger a second time, putting a neat hole into the last man’s skull. And then she’s knocked off-balance as Ixion’s recovered and leaps again. She barely blocks the wild slash at her throat, but doesn’t manage to keep her pistol from flying out of her hand. Ixion’s eyes are wild and her teeth are bared as she comes in for another attack.

_“Arc, now!”_

Anna reaches up, slaps the crom on the exposed metal arm, and braces herself.

The attack never comes.

There’s a _snarl_ over the comm, and Ixion’s free hand is wrapped around her own throat, sparking and choking her. The woman’s eyes are wide, desperate and scared as her own cybernetics turn against her. They widen even further as the hand with the knives jab closer, spearing her through the heart and driving in deep. There’s a loud popping sound, and then the smell of cooked meat permeates the air as smoke rises from the arms.

Ixion falls backwards and does not move.

Holy shit. Elsa did...Anna had no idea the corms could do _that_. But somehow, she knows that now is not the time to bring it up.

“You okay?” Right, Adze still sees her on the floor.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just coming down from the fight. You know. Whew.” Anna lets herself laugh a little and picks herself up. “Hey Adze, nice shot. I owe you one,” she says, gathering her fallen knife and pistol.

“Not a problem. I mean, you had the hard part. We’re all clear. Rime, you see anyone else?”

_“...no. You’re clear. Go grab the package and let’s get out of here.”_

Anna bites her tongue but goes towards the container marked RA43-56. She glances over some of the other things in the warehouse, to distract herself from the body cooling in the middle of the floor. It’s a lot of building material, light-weight but durable stuff. She recognizes it from one of Papa’s binders full of architectural designs. He had always been interested in using that sort of stuff.

It’s not important right now. Mama and Papa are dead, and she’s got more important things to do than wander down memory lane. Like finding whatever she just risked her neck for. She pokes her head into the container. Thankfully, in the pile of building material, there is a very obvious metal briefcase. “Got it,” she says as she grabs it. “Let’s go.”

Adze is waiting for her by the door, rifle and rope hanging over his shoulder. “This is it?” He sounds grumpy. She doesn’t blame him.

“I hope it holds the secrets of the universe or something, because that was bullshit.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” His lips quirk up in a small smile. He should do that more. It looks good on him.

_“Any time today.”_

Anna shakes her head to clear it. “Right!” She pushes open the doors and steps back out into the night...and stares a little.

Sven is waiting for them, sitting on top of the body of a Green Street Boy. The body twitches a little. Sven barks and wags his tail.

“I told you he could do it.”


	5. protocol_01.04: iterate

They returned the briefcase to Sanctuary first thing. T had looked thunderous when Anna had to explain that the blood was Ixion's. Somehow, Anna doubts that the next conversation T has with their client will be pleasant.

Adze and Sven had left after they got their payment, presumably back to Doc's clinic. Working with him — them? — had been much better than she expected, but at this point, Anna's main concern is getting _clean_.

She starts peeling off her clothes and gear as soon as the door to her apartment locks, starting with the gloves. The blood's dried on them, flaking as she pulls them off. Those are going to be a pain to clean, she thinks as she makes her way to the shower. The rest of her clothes are in marginally better shape, and once again she silently thanks Elsa's insistence that her outfits are designed for durability and ease of cleaning.

Under the spray, Anna can't stop her thoughts from circling back to her sister. What she'd done to Ixion was scary. The most terrifying part, though, is how _fast_ it happened. All it had taken was an instant, and she had turned Ixion’s own body against her. And with this knowledge came the cold realization that it was _too_ fast for even Elsa to be using a keyboard.

Her conversation with T and Doc echoes in her head. But all the other signs are just wrong. The single most important symptom in a skiz, after their addiction to the Net, is that they can’t focus. The direct neural jack makes access faster, but the human brain wasn’t designed for that. They can’t control their own thoughts, their own mental capacity. And her sister is nothing _but_ control. Sure, Anna’s seen her impressively multitask to a ridiculous degree, but nothing escapes Elsa’s laser-focus.

But the ease at which she disabled Ixion, with which she took over and killed Ixion, Anna can’t help but worry. She hadn’t even known a corm could do that. It makes sense, in retrospect, sort of. Maybe it happened so fast because no one seriously expects a non-networked set of cyberware to be in danger of a network attack. Maybe it had shitty security, and she’s seen Elsa blow through some really impressive networks. Maybe Elsa had just designed them to work that way on cyber limbs because she’s that ridiculously paranoid.

It really doesn’t help settle her thoughts that her sister’s been quiet since the warehouse. As she towels off and bundles into warm sweats, she wonders what the silence means. Is Elsa also bothered by what happened? She doesn’t have a way to deal with it, other than thinking or talking. What is she going to do, run around wherever she’s being kept? And who is she going to talk to other than Anna?

“Hey Elsa?”

_“Hm?”_ On some level, it’s comforting to know that her sister is always listening, always there for her. It really hits home at times like this that they really do only have each other.

“Can we...can we talk about what happened?” she asks, preparing some hot chocolate mix in her tiny kitchen. Anna figures she’s going to need it.

Thankfully for her nerves, Elsa doesn’t play dumb. _“You mean with Ixion.”_

“Yeah.” Anna bites her lip. “You’ve never done that before.”

_“I’ve reprogrammed robots on the fly before.”_

Anna drops the spoon. It clatters against the countertop. She suddenly, irrationally, hates it. “That’s not the same.”

There’s a long pause. _“No, I guess it’s not. Because robots aren’t alive.”_

The words die on her tongue. Is that it? That Elsa did that to a human, rather than the fact that Elsa did it at all? Because Anna really doesn’t have a leg to stand on, in the latter case. And Ixion was a far worse person than most of the other people Anna’s killed.

Or is it because it looks, and sounds, like it’s so easy for Elsa to do that, and so savagely? Anna knows she won’t sleep well; she never does when she had to end a life. Does her sister have similar problems? This isn’t the first time, but she’s never even thought to ask before.

"Are you okay?"

The answer takes awhile to come. _"I'm fine, Anna. Don't worry about it."_

Well, when she says it like that, Anna can't help _but_ worry, but Elsa's tone has a weight of finality to it, a door slammed shut. There have been moments like this before, when she clams up and Anna can't break through, no matter what. It's always 'I'm fine'. She hates it.

Anna takes her mug of hot chocolate and throws herself onto one of the couches in the living room. Chocolate, at least, isn't complicated, she thinks as she savors a sip.

_"I think I found something."_

Anna nearly spits out her drink. 'Something' can only mean one thing.

"The lead panned out?"

_"Very possibly. It was tracing through a mess of start-ups and shell companies, but I narrowed it down to one investment firm. Iwakura Holdings. Unfortunately, the trail goes cold there."_ Elsa sounds frustrated.

"Wait. 'Goes cold'? What does that mean?"

_"It means that there are a bunch of references to files that just aren't there. Someone tried to clean it up, but didn't go quite deep enough. But I can't get to those files."_

"Why do I get the feeling there's a yet?"

_“Because you’re learning.”_ Elsa’s got that dry tone again. _“I’m pretty sure I know where the files are, physically. But the machine they’re on isn’t connected to the network. They do a sneakernet transfer.”_

“So you’ll need a corm.” Anna throws her head back against the couch. They’ve done this before, but nothing so important. They can’t afford a smash-and-grab. They can’t afford mistakes, not now.

_“Either that or you pull the database down onto a stick for me.”_

Anna bites her lip. “What’s best?”

Elsa takes her time answering. _“If you give me a stick, I can write something that’ll copy the database without a trace. There’s a chance someone will notice with a corm, since I’ll be analyzing on the fly, but it might be faster.”_

“And we don’t want anyone to know we’re on their trail. Right. Sooo, prep for both.” Anna pushes herself up from the couch and goes over to dig through the Closet of Elsa’s Ridiculousness. She stashes all sorts of network and computer hacker-y gear, most of which she has absolutely no clue on how it works, in here. Mysterious boxes would appear from where ever Elsa got things delivered from that time, and all Anna has to do is be able to pull out the right widget at the right time. This time, she fishes out a stupidly-large-capacity datastick from the box and plugs it into the nearby computer. This, at least, she understands.

_“So what did you think of working with Adze?”_ Elsa asks randomly as whatever commands she’s writing to put whatever-it-is onto the stick starts streaming across the screen.

“Doc was pretty spot-on. He had no problem with you, which is all the points ever,” Anna muses. “Although now I’m slightly terrified of her standards. He was professional and capable and a damn good shot. The dog is adorable and he’s not bad himself wait, what?”

_“Uh-huh.”_ Oh goddammit, Elsa sounds way too amused. _“I’ll make a note of that assessment.”_

“Oh shut up.” Her sister’s laughter rings in her ear, and it warms her heart. This is easy. This is fine. “Anyway, what’s the plan?”

_“Getting in will be the biggest issue, as usual. Depending on time, we could break into Iwakura ourselves, or we could try to see if T has a job and get in that way.”_

“You have floorplans already?” She knows Elsa will leave it up to her. The urge to rush in is hard to resist. They’ve been searching for three years, and she doesn’t want to lose this trail and have to start again. But rushing means the possibility of mistakes. She can’t lose the trail that way either.

_“Of course.”_

Yeah, of course she does. Anna tries to ignore the voice in the back of her head whispering suspicions about what it means. Too much, far too much, for a mere human. No, stop that. This is _Elsa_. Her _sister_. “Okay, I’ll talk to T in the morning.”

They’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. When she curls up to sleep, the glow of the computer holo-screen where Elsa is working settles over her like a blanket. It doesn’t chase away the nightmares, doesn’t stop the whispering voice, not completely, but it’s a start.

In the morning, she goes down to Sanctuary. Unfortunately, Anna and the universe are not on very good terms at the moment, because there’s not magically a job involving Iwakura waiting for her. Her pout only results in T patting her on the head and shoving a mop into her hands.

At least she gets free drinks. Well, non-alcoholic ones. T is sometimes the worst mother hen _ever_.

It’s so disgustingly normal that everything starts itching under her skin after three days of it. Well, two and change.   Anna’s never been good at waiting, and this is worst than most. She tells herself a solid cover, an excuse, is worth it. Elsa tells her it whenever she catches Anna muttering under her breath.

It’s day three when something finally gives. T’s got her wiping down tables during the lull. Adze is at the bar, Sven at his feet. Elsa is not letting this fact go unremarked.

_“You know, you can say more than just hi to him.”_

“Oh my god, I am not having this conversation with you.”

_“I know for a fact that you keep looking back at him.”_ Elsa sounds like she’s holding back laughter. _“Come on, Anna.”_

“You are the worst. The actual worst,” Anna huffs, but she feels the smile nonetheless tugging at her lips.

Elsa’s chuckles recede into silence as Anna finishes the table she’s working on and wrings out the cloth. The smile falters a little as the silence continues, a sinking feeling growing in her gut.

“Hey Rime, heh, you know I didn’t mean it, right?”

No answer.

“Rime?”

Nothing. The knot in her stomach turns to lead. Shit. Elsa glitched. Wait, stay calm. It could just be a network blip. Totally normal. They’ve happened before. Elsa’s been fine afterwards. That they’re on the trail is just coincidence. Total coincidence. Just wait a few minutes and, shit, nothing. Oh god. It’s never happened twice in one week before.

“Arc? Arc, honey, are you okay?” Anna blinks and suddenly, T is standing in front of her, hands on her shoulders. Her pants feel wet. Oh. She dropped the bucket. “Arc, look at me.”

She does. She licks her lips, mouth suddenly dry. “T, you don’t have a job with Iwakura, do you.” She can’t even make it a question.

T looks very worried. “No. Nothing’s come in. Arc, what —”

“I need to go,” Anna pulls away, rubs her hand down her face. “I can’t wait. I...I need to go now. Dammit.”

“Arc. Arc!” T grabs her shoulder, spins her around. “What happened?”

Anna breathes in once, sharply, through her nose. “Rime’s gone silent,” she admits. T sucks in a breath. “Iwakura has information we need. That’s what Rime found. And it could be a glitch, or something else, but you know Rime doesn’t do this.”

“She could have just been called away,” T says, gently.

Anna bites her lip. “In the middle of a conversation?”

T sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Arc, you can’t just go running off on your own. Iwakura’s big. Rime’s probably fine, just got distracted. Girl has to get off the Net sometime. And I don’t think she’d be none too pleased with you if you went off half-cocked by yourself and got killed.”

Dammit, why does T have to sound so _logical_? But there’s something tugging at her gut, that same sense of dread, that this isn’t as innocent as T thinks it is. She remembers there was a really big storm when she was younger. It raged and howled throughout the skyscrapers, wind rattling the windows, sounding like all the world like an angry dragon. Elsa had still been there, and she remembers huddling under a blanket in her sister’s arms, her only safe haven. But what she also remembers is the feeling right before the storm came. The eerie calmness that settled over everything, the taste and smell in the air, and the ominous clouds, all mixed in with the absolute certainty that something _big_ and _wrong_ was coming.

She has that feeling now, pricking in her fingers and up her spine. She hopes she’s just being paranoid.

Paranoia has kept her alive for the last three years.

“T, I know. I know you mean well. But this is _important_.”

“Important enough to risk getting yourself _killed_ because you can’t wait for your partner? Iwakura isn’t the same as tricking Prince.”

Anna knows this. She knows it completely, she’s not stupid, but she’s waited three days, and sneaking into the investment firm has always been on the table, and maybe Elsa will be back in a minute and everything will be _fine_ —

“I can go.”

She nearly leaps out of her skin because she didn’t even hear Adze come up behind her and oh my god, she is a mess. She’s on a hair-trigger and didn’t notice him. What the hell does that mean for her threat assessment because it’s just more evidence that T is right and...

She turns around and whatever it is she thinks she’s going to say dies in her mouth, because Adze is looking at her with nothing but concern and quiet determination. “What? Adze, no, I can’t ask you to do this,” she says instead.

He frowns a little. “No, you can. I can go. Look, this is obviously important to you, and you’re off-balance because Rime’s missing — sorry, overheard that — so you need someone to watch your six. And I think we did okay together a few days ago, and you two are pretty chill, so...yeah.”

Anna just stares at him, uncomprehendingly. No one volunteers for this sort of thing. There’s no pay. There’s no reason for him to stick his neck out for someone he met a few days ago. And Elsa isn’t here, isn’t answering, and Anna needs to make the call, and she’s _scared_. She’s scared about the timing, about screwing up, about everything because she’s not perfect. She’s sometimes reckless and clumsy and why would anyone trust her lead? Because that’s what Adze is doing right now.

“You’re actually volunteering? Adze, you hate people.” The skepticism rolls off T in waves.

Adze rolls his eyes a little. “Doc’s been working on that. I’m trying to fill my socialization quota,” he says sarcastically. But when he looks at her again, his face loses a bit of that edge, and he’s nothing but sincerity again. “I’m serious. I can go with you.”

Something furry brushes her palm. Sven whines and shoves his head into her palm again and she buries her hand into his fur automatically.

She takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, we can do this. Yeah. You sure?” He just nods. “Okay, yeah. T can we...?”

T levels a look at Adze before nodding. “You know where they are. And Arc?” There’s something that Anna doesn’t want to think about in T’s eyes. “Be careful, because I don’t want to be the one to tell Rime if you’re not.”

It isn’t until they’re safely in a back room that Adze starts off talking again. “Okay, so. What are we doing?”

Sven bumps her leg again, and her fingers scratch him behind the ears. The contact centers her a bit more. He’s a good dog. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

Adze rubs the back of his neck. “No, not really. Way I see it, we wouldn’t be down here doing this stuff if there wasn’t a reason. I’m guessing this is related to yours, and that, well, that’s fine with me for now.”

There’s so much she could say to that. But not now, not when she has to be in charge. “We need to break into Iwakura Holdings.” She fishes out the tablet that has access to the files she knows Elsa always stores things for her. Just in case. Anna’s never hated and loved Elsa’s ‘just in case’ more right now. “Rime did manage to prep the intel and target.”

The office building pops up on the holo, surrounded by nearby buildings. Iwakura is in the Beyford Ward, but doesn’t reach the Upper City. Sort of an unremarkable building, really. Papa would have called it “boringly standard with a distressingly middle-manager aesthetic”. She has to fight a small smile at the thought, before reality drags her back to the present.

“You’ve been planning this,” Adze observes, walking around the holo to start figuring out how to attack this problem.

“Yeah. We were hoping T would find a contract that would offer an actual cover, but...”

“Timing.”

“Yeah.” Anna rolls her neck. “All right, let’s figure this out.”

It takes them hours, pouring over blueprints and floorplans, security footage and patterns. Anna has new respect for how quickly Elsa does this, because this is a stupid amount of information and she makes it look effortless. But Adze knows his own abilities, has some tricks of his own, and between the two of them, they manage a plan that’s actually pretty good. It’s really nothing fancy, in the end, because simple means they can adapt and being able to adapt means they don’t screw up.

They split up to get their respective gear and join back up to head over to the Beyford Ward. Officially, it’s part of the Middle City, just full of people just good enough to escape the undercity, but nowhere near rich or glamorous enough for the Upper. Unofficially, well, everyone knows all it would take is one string of bad luck to send you falling down to the undercity, so it’s a weird sort of desperate elitism that sort of permeates everything.

It’s really kind of stupid.

Annoyingly, this means that the people who live and work here are the type who would totally freak out at the sight of two people dressed and armed like blacksiders on the tram or walking down the street. Thankfully, Adze has a vehicle, a small older-model car that’s probably barely street legal on skybridges, but it’s not at all out of place here. About the one good thing having to use it is that they at least have a way of getting back quickly.

They’re a few miles away when Anna’s subdural earphone cracks to life.

_“Anna?”_

Anna nearly bangs her head on the roof of the car, she jumps in her seat so hard. “Rime? Are you there?” She’s so surprised, she doesn’t even use the subvocal. She catches Adze’s quick look at her, his eyes wide in surprise, before he focuses on driving again.

_“Yeah. I’m here. Sorry about that.”_ Elsa sounds...tired. Her voice is thin and slow, and Anna’s torn between anger at her for making her freak out like that, and genuine worry.

She settles on worry and switches back to subvocal. “What happened?”

_“It was...a system glitch. I’m fine now.”_ A pause. “ _What’s going on now? You’re not...you’re not at Sanctuary. Wait, why are you in Beyford?”_

“I’m with Adze. And Sven. We used your notes to figure out a way into Iwakura. You...glitched. Dammit, do you have any idea how worried I was?”

_“It was a glitch. Those have happened before.”_

“Not when we’re on the trail like this! For godsakes, I thought something happened to you!”

_“I’m fine, Anna. They don’t know about it yet. I would know.”_

“You are not actually perfect! What if —”

_“Anna. I would know. Just...I would, okay? And they don’t.”_ Scratch tired, Elsa sounds _exhausted._ _“Now please explain to me why you’re going to Iwakura instead of waiting?”_

“Well, you glitched, I got...fine, I got scared and T wasn’t coming up with anything. I was done with waiting.” Anna huffs a little. “Adze offered to help, so we made a plan.”

_“...okay. Fine, I’ll trust you on that.”_ Another pause . _“Is Adze also on comm?”_

She looks at him, and says normally “Yeah, he is.”

_“Okay. Just give me a second.”_ It takes less than that before both their comms activate. _“Hi Adze.”_

“Hey Rime. Glad you’re back. Arc was worried.” He says it without even a hint of censure, and Anna likes him a little more. Sven barks in the back.

_“Yeah. Sorry about that. Couldn’t...couldn’t help that.”_

Adze frowns. “You don’t sound so good.”

_“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine in a bit.”_ Before either of them can call bullshit, though, Elsa changes the subject. _“Mind telling me your plan?”_

They do, not quite talking over each other at times, but managing to explain it to Elsa, who really isn’t asking as many questions as she normally would. By the time they’re done, Adze has parked the car in an alley two blocks away from Iwakura.

Adze rubs the back of his neck before dropping his head against the seat rest. “Rime...are you up for mission control?” It’s the obvious question, and Anna knows he has to ask it, because really, their chance of success skyrockets if Elsa’s with them. At the same time, she hates it, because god, listen to her, and she knows what Elsa’s answer will be.

_“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”_

Sometimes, her sister can be a goddamned moron. “Rime, are you sure?”

_“I’m **fine** , Arc.”_ And there’s a little bit of steel back in her voice, and that more than anything convinces Anna. _“Longer we waste here, the shorter the window to do this is.”_

Anna turns to look at Adze and finds him already looking at her. He nods and smiles, and yeah, she’s right, that and the confidence do look good on him. She can’t help but grin back. “Well, okay then. Let’s do this.”


	6. protocol_01.05: sneakernet

Of course, the machine they have to get to is pretty much in the middle of the building, and of course whoever is running security at Iwakura has at least heard the term "infosec". Which is why just strolling in like they belong there isn't going to work.

Not that it's a huge loss; this way is a lot more fun.

_"You just wanted an excuse to rappel down the building while I couldn't talk you out of it."_ Elsa sounds amused enough that Anna's thinking either she's actually starting to recover from whatever, or she's getting a lot better at pretending.

"I can neither confirm nor deny." Anna tests the anchors and knots one last time while Adze gives her harness a final check. "How are the security cameras?"

_"About to go on loop."_

The initial plan was for Anna to scuttle down the side of the building, in a weird architectural groove that blocked line of sight on her from any cameras, until she got to the right floor. Now, though, Elsa has the electronic security under her control, so that just leaves the human part. And lets Anna avoid road rash.

Adze is already picking the lock on the roof entrance. He'll grab the ropes once Anna's in, and then go set up their escape route while being nearby in case there's trouble. His part in this got slightly modified now that Elsa's back, since he doesn't have to play lookout. He seems fine with it, though. Not much risking your neck for no pay, maybe.

Adze comes back, picks up the ropes, and hooks in as Anna steps to the edge. "On belay," he says over the comm.

Anna grins as she pulls on her gloves. She loves this part. “Let’s go,” she says before hopping off.

The descent is easy, rope streaming through her palms as she walks down the wall. Sure, she could fall, but timing’s harder and, despite what Elsa might say, she’s not actually an adrenalin-junkie. And since this entire op requires timing, controlled descent it is. She stops when she reaches the correct story, and lets herself hang in her harness for a moment as she takes a look at the window right off to the side.

Thankfully, the schematics were right and with a little work, she can pop the lock and slide in. Sure, she could have cut the glass, but right now, they’re still hoping on stealth and a hole in the window is kinda damn obvious. But the building is just the kind of aesthetic that would boast corner offices having windows that actually open, even though they probably rarely, if ever, are, and Anna lands inside some manager’s depressingly stereotypical office. Oh god, it even has a poster of a movie that came out five years ago on the wall, probably in some desperate attempt to either seem cool or add some splash of actual personality. She despairs a little as she unhooks the rope from her harness and gives a few tugs so Adze knows to pull it back up.

Anna gently closes the window and then swaps for a thinner pair of gloves before she steps out into the darkened hallway. “Where?”

_“Your planned route is still clear. Take a left.”_

Her planned route takes her through a cubicle farm. Muscle-memory has her crouching down and picking her way quickly and carefully through the dividers, even though she knows Elsa’s still spoofing the camera feed and will tell her if security breaks their routine. Better to be safe than sorry.

The room itself is rather depressing, darkened and empty as it is. There aren’t even any windows to let the light from the street in. How can anyone work in this sort of boxed-in area, not even aware of what the weather is or the time of day? She'd go crazy.

Does her sister even have a window, wherever she is? Why she suddenly thinks about this, she has no idea. But the thought bothers her, eats at the back of her brain. It's a bad train of thought for an op. It's an even worse one when Elsa just got back online from...wherever she was. She wants to know, and that information is closer than ever. They're so close, she can feel it.

"Rime, you'd " she starts. You'd tell me if there was a problem with you, right?

_"Hm?"_

"I'm set up, Arc." Adze's voice interrupts. Right.

"Nevermind." She's at an intersection. "Which way?"

_"Right, pass two hallways, left."_

Elsa feeds directions into her ear as she makes her way through this maze of a building, dodging security. Finally, she reaches the door to the cluster room. It only takes Elsa a few seconds to spoof the prox card reader, and the door opens with a click. Anna presses on inside, closing the door behind her. The room is filled with computers, but she knows which one she wants. It’s the one that’s slightly apart from the others, unconnected.

“Okay, how do you want to do this?”

_“Security hasn’t spotted us yet. How many slots does this thing have?”_

“Two that I can see easily.”

_“All right. Stick the data stick in. Then stick the corm in; I want to take a quick look at what’s on here while we pull it down.”_

Anna does so. It’s kinda neat how it doesn’t even look like anything’s going on with the computer on-screen, that whatever Elsa did is this subtle, but it still would be kinda nice to know that it was, you know, doing something. She has to stop herself from shuffling from foot to foot, restless. Elsa’s attention is split, and while normally she wouldn’t worry since her sister has done crazier multi-tasking in the past, she’s never sounded so exhausted before.

_“Shoot.”_ Elsa sounds frustrated. _“I’m pretty sure everything is here, but I just found a reference to a printed document. It’s filed in hardcopy only. God save me from infosec, why did it have to be hardcopy? ”_

“So...”

_“So I’m not sure, but we might need it,”_ she growls. _“Which means someone has to get it. I’ve got the number and location, but it’s elsewhere in this building.”_

Anna swears under her breath. “How much longer will the data transfer take?”

_“Too long to be safe for that and the file.”_

“Where is it?” Adze breaks in. Anna had almost forgotten he’s on the line too.

_“Filing room, 3 floors below you. Adze, are you —”_

“I can get that, if you can keep security off my tail and tell me where to go.”

_“I...I can do that.”_

“Great.”

Anna can’t stop herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet as she listens to Elsa feed Adze directions. It’s different from this side, just being able to listen and not _do_. She wonders if this is what her sister feels like all the time. She doesn’t know how she stands it. Anna needs to _move_ , to be the one acting, because she’s really no good at sitting around while other people put their necks on the line. But now, she’s stuck here babysitting a computer, and if it takes much longer, she’s going to start climbing up the walls.

It really doesn’t take that long, not when Anna actually looks at the time. Adze has the papers in hand and is on his way back to their meeting point in under five minutes. It just seemed to take forever.

At about the same time he’s back, the light on the datastick flashes off. It’s done. “Rime, it’s done. We good?”

_“Yeah. Yeah, we’re done. Let’s go.”_ She sounds subdued as Anna grabs the stick and corm and stuffs both into her pocket. _“Hallway’s clear.”_

Elsa says nothing else but directions as Anna makes her way to a stairwell near an outer wall. Adze is there waiting, against the wall half a flight up so that he’s not within line of sight of either door. “Ready to go?” he asks, walking down. He’s got their rappelling gear in his hands.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

“Sure thing.” He ties the rope into a complicated knot around the railing and through some of gear, first for himself then for her. She tests it once, and on his thumbs-up, she jumps, rappelling down the shaft quickly, all the way down to the sub-basement. Adze follows as soon as she’s out of his way. Once he’s down, he removes a clip and tugs on the rope a certain way, and the entire thing comes unwound from the railing. No sense leaving behind evidence.

The blueprints of the building ended up being entirely accurate, and the maintenance shaft into the old abandoned tunnels is right where it should be. The cover only takes a few solid hits from Adze before it’s off and he pulls it back after them as they disappear into the tunnels.

Easy, clean getaway. Anna’s feeling pretty good about how it all turned out, everything considered. Much less of a furball than the last one.

“Well, this went better, didn’t it?”

Adze chuckles. “Less people trying to kill us, for one thing. I’m a fan of that.”

“Gotta agree with that one.” The tunnels are pitch black, the only source of light being their headlamps. Their soft footsteps echo slightly off the crumbling, dry stone and metal. This used to be part of a subway system, before the skybridges and elevated trains replaced everything. You find pockets of these all throughout the city; these are in better condition than most. Might be because no one’s living in them.

Anna wrings her hands a little. “Thanks again, you know, for your help. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“It wasn’t a problem. You needed the help, and you two are pretty nice to work with, so...yeah.”

_“I’m sorry.”_ It’s the first thing Elsa’s said in a while that isn’t directions. It’s soft enough that Anna barely catches it.

“Wait, what? What are you apologizing for, Rime?” Adze beats her to it, and sounding about as confused as she is to boot.

_“I didn’t think about hardcopies. I should have. They were already clever enough to not have the data networked. I should have thought about that sooner. It nearly wrecked your plan.”_

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. The plan was simple in case something like that came up,” Adze frowns a little. “Seriously, it was barely a plan. The only reason it looked like a plan is because you’re here.”

_“...yeah, okay. I’m going to go check your exit point.”_ Anna knows Elsa isn’t done yet, but she’s not about to call her out here in front of Adze.

“She always like that?” he asks, after a few minutes.

“Like what?” And okay, maybe she’s a tad more defensive than she should be. The glitch put her on edge.

“Um. Driven. She’s about as hard on herself as Doc is.” He shakes his head. “How on earth she was supposed to know about those, I have no idea.”

“Doc has something against Rime?” Anna zeroes in on that part of the statement.

Adze blinks. “No! Not from what I can tell. Doc likes Rime just fine. Better than a lot of people, actually. No, Doc’s just also hard on herself. Like, stupidly so.”

“Oh,” she says, relaxing.

“And you’re protective.” He holds his hands up. “Not that that’s a bad thing! It’s just, well, it’s rare to see that with blacksiders, even partners. Or anyone in the undercity, really.” His face softens, just a little, tiny tufts of blond hair sticking out of his cap glowing in the light like a fractured halo. “It’s really...it’s nice to see.”

It’s all she can do to smile a bit at that. They continue on in easy silence.

_“Your exit’s clear.”_

It takes both of them to open up the rusted access cover up to the street, but they manage it. The car is still where Adze parked it, a few blocks over. Sven is waiting for them, tail wagging as he trots up next to Adze. “Everything okay here, buddy?” Adze asks, rubbing him behind the ears. Sven woofs quietly and wags his tail harder. “Good job.”

The drive back is mostly peppered with easy conversation, about nothing in particular. Everyone avoids the personal questions. Stuff like the weather — it sucks — and local sports teams — also suck —- are universal “safe” topics. Elsa’s mostly silent the entire way, only interjecting when either of them ask her something directly. Adze hands her the hardcopy documents when he drops her off at Sanctuary, with a small smile and a “don’t be a stranger” before he drives off, Sven barking his goodbyes from the backseat.

Anna pokes her head in the door to let T know she’s still alive. It’s the late-night rush at this point, blacksiders just coming off jobs means a full bar, so Anna just waves and flashes a thumbs up when she catches T’s eye. The older woman rolls her eyes and makes a shooing motion before turning back to the impressively sloshed customer she’s currently dealing with.

Anna shoos.

By the time she gets back to her place, the only thing she wants to do is collapse on the couch. She changes out of her working clothes and into something more comfortable before plugging the datastick into the computer and flopping back onto the couch.

_“Thanks,”_ Elsa says quietly.

“Seriously, stop. I told you, you’re not actually perfect.” Because watching her sister beat herself up over something she had zero control over is annoying at the best of times, which these are not. “There was no way you would have known.”

_“I just...I’m supposed to have these thing for you. I can’t do anything else from here.”_ Her voice sounds small, just completely wrung-out. Anna’s frustration deflates a little.

“Elsa...you already do so damn much. I don’t even know how you do it. Adze was right: the plan was barely a plan. God, it would have been so much harder without you.” Anna pinches the bridge of her nose. “And that was after the glitch. Seriously, if you’re so worried about it, take a break.”

_“Anna...”_

“No, I’m serious Elsa. When was the last time you _slept_? You’re always around when I need you, or when I just want to babble at you.”

_“It’s fine.”_

Anna sits up, annoyance mixing with worry. “No, it’s _not_ fine. I know I panicked when you glitched, but T’s right. You can’t possibly be on all the time. And you came back sounding completely _wrecked_. You can’t keep this up.”

_“Yes, I can.”_

“Is it because you’re afraid I’ll go crazy with worry again and go running off half-cocked? I promise I won’t. I’ll stay right here in this apartment if you just...take some time off-line. I promise.”

_“Anna, I can’t.”_

“Elsa —”

_“I just can’t!”_

The vehemence takes Anna by surprise. She recovers quickly though. If Elsa’s going to be a goddamn moron about it, then fine. She tried.   “Fine. I, at least, am going to sleep. Because I’m _tired_.”

She hates this, she hates fighting with her sister, but she hates the idea that her sister doesn’t trust her. All Elsa’s been doing for the last three years is taking care of Anna as best she can. And now, when Anna tries to return the favor, she just totally shuts it down. Anna knows, _knows_ that Elsa’s probably at this very second neck-deep in the data they got, because her sister doesn’t know when to goddamn _stop_. She’s risking burnout, and the voice in the back of Anna’s head, the one that’s been listening to T and Doc, just keeps whispering louder. Is Elsa really a skiz? Is she so hopelessly addicted to the Net that she can’t even log off voluntarily so she can sleep? Has Anna been enabling this for years, because she didn’t think about all this, what it meant? First when Elsa was Frost and now when she’s Rime?

She’s been taking and taking for years, never questioning what Elsa was giving. How much of this is her own fault?

Elsa sighs in her ear as Anna curls up under the blanket a few minutes later. _“Good night, Anna,”_ she says softly.

The light from the holo-screen isn’t as comforting this time.


	7. protocol_01.06: collision domain

The worst part about their fight, in the end, was that Elsa seems entirely content to just let it go. She didn’t mention it at all when Anna woke up only a few hours later. And Anna would have said something, she had wanted to say something, but Elsa sounds so much better in the morning that she can’t bring herself to. She’s not...she’s not hiding from the truth. If Elsa doesn’t trust her with this, well, she’ll just have to make her trust her by not poking at it.

Plus, Elsa’s all prickly and hissy about it right now. God knows her own mood just gets worse whenever someone prods her on an off-day. If she brings it up again right now, Elsa will just shut it down harder.

She’ll just wait it out. Let Elsa lower her guard a little, and then Anna can beat her over the head with taking care of herself. Well, as much as she’s able, wherever she is.

_"Hey Anna. Could you scan in those documents?"_ Elsa says, interrupting Anna's breakfast and halfhearted watching of a 24-hour news program.

"Sure thing," she mumbles around her spoon, carrying the bowl with her when she gets up to feed the pile of papers into the scanner. She flops back onto the couch, miraculously not spilling anything.

There's no word of a break-in at Iwakura, thank god. Sure, she could just ask Elsa, but Anna is pointedly using this to show her that she can totally do some of this. Even though blacksider scuttlebutt is usually far better than news programs could ever hope to be. It's the economics portion, which is, at least, something sort of like useful.

The talking heads seem to be all over some major corporate announcement anyway. Well, the announcement of some corporate announcement, specifically, which is about the most pointless news story ever. And how all the megacorps are reacting or not reacting. Synergen seems more concerned about their new train lines, Ichiban-Bijou is scrambling, and Helodex's response is the one they're discussing. So, Helios is the one with the useless announcement. Go, go power of deduction.

_"What was that about Helios?"_

Anna blinks. Okay, not the topic she would have started on, because it isn't like Elsa can't just find out for herself. But maybe she's actually _listening_ to her about spreading herself too thin.

Yeah, live in hope.

"Some sort of big closed press conference they're going to be having."

_"That's it,"_ Elsa says softly.

"Huh?"

_"Anna, you need to get into that conference."_

"Wait, what? That conference? The Helios one? Please to be explaining."

There's a thread of excitement in Elsa's voice, one that she can't remember the last time she heard. _"Helios, Anna. It's all leading there. That's why Iwakura put the records off-net."_ She pulls up an electronic version of one of the papers Anna just scanned on-screen. Something is highlighted. _"This mentions Haskell, who is most likely --"_

"Alice Haskell, CEO of Helios," Anna breathes.

_"Bingo."_

"You cannot possibly be thinking about hacking Helios."

_"I already have."_

"What?! Are you _crazy_?"

_“Crazy **like a fox** ,”_ Elsa purrs.

“Oh my god. Elsa. Helios? You hacked _Helios_?” She knows she’s getting worked up. Of all the crazy things she could have done, her sister hacked a megacorp? After a goddamn _glitch_? A noise escapes her throat that is arguably not even human.

_“Anna, breathe. I went in and looked. The infrastructure is practically alive. I can get in, but I can’t monitor it.”_ Her tone turns wry. _“I did actually listen. That’s why you need to go.”_

Oh. Okay. Still, though. “Okay, so you did that. Wait, why do I have to go?”

_“Because monitoring Helios without getting caught is going to split my attention too much. So I need you to go in so I can get Olaf to do it for me.”_

Okay, this actually sounds like sanity talking. Although, she really can’t let the mention of the little AI go past without commenting. "I still can’t believe you wrote an AI and named it _Olaf_. You _suck_ at names.”

_"It’s an acronym! It stands for Original Life Artificial Form!"_

"You made that up _after_.”

_“Anyway,”_ Elsa says, apparently trying to maintain some dignity. Anna does a little victory dance. _“Anyway, if Olaf can keep a backdoor open for me, I don’t have to keep watch.”_

“And you need me to get him in there.”

_“It is easier that way. Less traceable.”_

“And I’m supposed to do it at that press conference? How exactly do you figure that?”

Anna can almost hear Elsa sighing. _“The press conference isn’t being held at Helios. Therefore, someone’s going to connect to an outside network. Olaf will just catch a ride back.”_

She nods absently, forgetting herself for a moment. “Okay, that much makes sense. Wait, if it’s not at Helios, then where is it?”

_“Didn’t the news mention it? It’s at the art museum.”_

At that moment, the news holo helpfully switches to someone outside said museum. Anna’s works her jaw a few times. Thank god Elsa can’t actually really see her, she looks like a fish right now. “The museum? Are you serious?”

_“Yes. Apparently, they think this is important.”_ Elsa’s tone is drier than the goddamn Sahara. _“Think of it like old home week.”_

Anna licks her lips. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmurs.

The art museum means going to the Upper City. It means going back to streets and skybridges she hasn't walked in three years, walking among the thoughtless wealth and privilege she'd once taken for granted. It means climbing back into that skin and not recoiling from it all.

Anna knows she can't live like that anymore.

"I thought I left there for a reason."

_"You did."_ There's a pause, like she's weighing something.   _"And I don't like it either. It's been three years, but it just takes a little bad luck, and someone could recognize you."_

"I've changed!"

_"You still wear your hair in pigtails."_

"Rude, Elsa. So very rude." She sighs. "Still, though. Going back Up there..."

_"I admit I'd feel better about it too if you had backup. Physical backup."_

Anna tries to hold back a wince. It's bad that Elsa said what she was thinking, but it's worse now, with the spectre of her limitations hovering over everything anyway. It isn't fair. It's why Anna will do it anyway, bad feelings be damned. "But who? T and Doc don't exactly pull ops."

_"You could ask Adze. He’s been helpful before."_ And Elsa sounds too damnably reasonable with that.

Because he _has_ , it’s true. But he’s been getting in close. It’s been the two of them for so long that Anna doesn’t know how she feels about bringing in another person. Because sooner or later, Adze would start asking questions. He _should_ be asking questions. And Anna doesn’t know how to answer all of them yet.

So she has to ask. "Are you sure? I mean, he's nice, really nice, almost too nice. Seriously, he helped us out twice and one of those was for free. Who does that?" No one, really. Too many people playing the game, working the marks. People like Prince are the norm, people more likely to kill you with kindness, the kind that sinks its claws into you and drags you down. Because it’s been three years, and Anna has met no one like Adze.

_“Apparently him. It’s not ideal, but I don’t know of anyone else. But it’s your call.”_

Anna blinks. “My call? Why mine?”

_“Because he’s watching your back, not mine.”_

She can’t help the scowl that crosses her face. “It’s both of our necks. You’re in a worse position than I am.”

_“I’ll be fine.”_

“You don’t know that! They could kill you!” She really, really hates the flippant attitude her sister seems to have to her own well-being. This is getting to absurd levels.

_“Unlikely.”_ There’s a pause, and Anna can almost imagine hearing the sigh. _“But your concern for me is noted. Now will you please let me be more concerned about you who is going to be going back into that nest of vipers?”_

And this is almost like victory, so she’ll take it. “All right. I’ll head down to Sanctuary and see if he’s available. He’s not bad.”

_“I am sure he will be thrilled to hear it.”_

"So," she says, ignoring Elsa's commentary, "how are we doing this?"

_"Well, in theory, you and Adze will be getting in through the front door. I've already managed to access their guest list. If Adze agrees, Sophia and Elliot Donovan will be attending Helios' extra-special event."_

"Well, that'll be different." A thought strikes her. "Wait. Is this a fancy thing?"

_"Likely, yes."_

"So...you're saying Adze and I would be attending a fancy event, at the art museum, together. Like, together together."

_"It's an option."_

"An option, she says." Anna throws her hands up. "Just what game are you playing, Elsa?"

_"I have no idea what you're talking about."_

Anna narrows her eyes. Yeah, she doesn't believe that for a second. "Yeah, sure, right." Ugh, whatever. She'd rather deal with Elsa being playful than Elsa being broody. "And why would I choose this option?"

_"Well, there's always the ventilation system."_

"I hate you so much sometimes."

_"I love you too."_ She sounds disgustingly cheerful. _"Now go to Sanctuary and see if Adze is available if you want him."_

“Ugh, fine.” To be entirely fair, they’ve never worked with someone else more than once. Most blacksiders didn’t. If you ran a job with a person more than once, you start thinking about them as crew. And “crew” for them has meant “Arc and Rime” only for the last three years. Adding more crew is always dangerous down here in the net of shifting loyalties and desires and ambitions of the Undercity. Adding crew means more trust.

But Anna also knows that Elsa wouldn’t even have suggested Adze if she hadn’t run a thorough background check. And her background checks were crazier than the Feds’. At this point, Elsa probably knew more about Adze than _Adze_ knew about himself. It was a bit of a breach of unspoken blacksider code, where handles are used instead of names to prevent exactly that from happening. But Elsa – and Rime and Frost – has always been an entity onto herself, and Anna won’t ask anyway. That her sister suggested Adze’s help with this speaks louder than anything else anyway.

She has this in mind when she opens the doors to Sanctuary and strolls in. It’s early morning, so the place is mostly empty except for the few sleepy blacksiders trying to drown in their coffee and eggs. T looks up at her from behind the bar; if she didn’t know the woman got by on four hours of sleep a day, Anna would be wondering if _she_ had an insomnia problem.

“Going off shift soon. You want anything, you know well enough where it is,” T says pointedly. “Keys is in the kitchen if you want something more complicated than a banana.” Sanctuary itself doesn’t shut down when T officially closes the bar for a few hours. Some of the regulars, like Keys, slide into cover the kitchen and nobody’s dumb enough to try anything when T’s not there.

Anna pouts. “T, don’t you trust me with the stove?”

T gives her a flat look. “No.” She wipes down the bar one more time before flipping the towel over her shoulder. "But that's not why you're here, is it?"

"No. Have you seen Adze?"

T is really good at these assessing looks, god. "Thought you were with him last night."

"Um, yeah, well..."

She is thankfully saved from her mumbling – goddammit Elsa, now would be nice to speak up instead of just listening like Anna _knows_ she is – by T taking pity. "This time of day, Adze usually spends his time at the clinic. Least that's what Doc tells me." 

Anna nods. "Thanks. I'll check."

T hums a moment. "How's Rime?" she asks, almost neutral if you didn't know her.

Still, she can't help but pulling a face. "Fine. Same as ever."

"Right.” She sighs. “I don’t know whatever it is you and Rime are chasing, Arc, and I won’t ask ‘cause everyone down here’s chasing something. But...just watch yourselves, okay?”

Anna swallows hard, suddenly a little choked up, and nods. She doesn’t even want to try to speak, because between T’s concern and the prospect of going back Up, well, she isn’t going to last long. Because this is moving fast, really fast, and it’s like she’s on a runaway train, and there’s no breaks. But she couldn’t stop herself, not now, even if she wanted to. Which she doesn’t.

Her feet carry her down the street a few doors while her thoughts race ahead. Doc's clinic isn't much too much to look at from the front, just another dingy small storefront. The real clinic is downstairs, with all the best meds and equipment the black market could provide. Or not provide. Anna seriously has no idea how Doc got her hands on most of this stuff, and she'll never ask. Doc's one of the only sources of actual medical care in the undercity, and she won't charge a cred for people who really need it. Still, Anna's seen Doc pull miracles on a less-than-shoestring budget that the Upper City hospitals would have declared hopeless.

There's a kid in ragged clothes sitting in the waiting room when she walks in. Even though he doesn't raise his head, Anna can still see the tear tracks on his face. But he's more focused on Adze, who's kneeling in front of him applying a bandage to his knee with surprising gentleness, and Sven, who's apparently fine with the kid's grip on his fur. From the looks of it, Adze has patched up a few scrapes on the boy.

Sven thumps his tail, and Adze looks up to see her in the doorway. "Doc's busy downstairs with a patient."

"Actually, I was looking for you."

"Oh. Give me a sec." He turns back to the boy. "Well, Ben. Good news is I don't think we're gonna have to cut it off." The boy giggles and Adze smiles. Anna feels something fluttering in her chest. "How're ya feeling?"

The boy, Ben apparently, smiles shyly as he swings his legs experimentally. “Better,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

Adze ruffles the boy’s hair. “If you give one of the treats on the desk to Sven, we’ll call it even, okay?”

The grin he gets in return is wide and toothy as Ben races over to the desk, duct-taped shoes slapping against the old tile, the dog following at his heels. “Just one!” Adze calls before turning to face her fully. "Um, hi. You know, when I said 'don't be a stranger', I didn't think you'd show up today."

"Hah hah. Well..." she shrugs. "Funny that."

"So what brings you around here?"

"Like I said, looking for you." Anna sighs and twists her fingers together. Stupid nervous habit, why is she doing it now? "I, uh, might need your help. Again. Tonight. I think it's tonight."

_"Yes, it's tonight."_ Dammit Elsa, you couldn't have reminded her earlier, like _before_ she started babbling?

"Oookay. With what?"

Wow, are her fingers interesting. “There’s the Helios press conference. I need to go there. Well, we need to go there, Rime needs a thing done, but I have to physically go there and...right. Press conference.”

“Not seeing what you need me for.”

She sighs. Oh, screw it. "It's at the art museum. And _someone_ wants me to have backup. As in backup there. So...yeah. You're about the only person either of us worked with recently that didn't make me want to stab their eyeballs out, so."

"Uh thanks. I think...wait, the art museum? Together?"

"He's going!" Doc yells up the stairs, making Adze jump.

"Isn't that, uh, really fancy Upper City crowds?" He looked down at his current, worn clothes. "I'd...have to dress up."

"Uh, yeah. Little bit."

"In that case, he's _definitely_ going," Doc says from the doorway to the basement, smirk on her face. Sven woofs and thumps his tail on the ground. "See, even Sven agrees."

Adze turns around to glare at the dog. "Traitor." Sven just barks, tail wagging furiously. “Seriously though, Doc, like I can fit up _there_?”

Doc hums as she throws herself into a chair, eyeing both of them. “I going to assume _someone_ has a plan about how you’re getting in there.”

Damn, how much did Doc hear anyway? The woman must have the ears of a bat. “Um, yeah. Rime can, or did, get us on the guest list. As, um,” she swallows hard and prays her ears aren’t burning, “a couple. Or siblings?”

“There’s no way you two look like siblings, Arc,” Doc drawls. She looks way too amused. Damn her. “Let me make a couple of calls. And then you,” she points at Adze, “and I are going shopping,” she says, pulling herself out of the chair.

“What?! Doc, you, wait, what?”

The look she levels at him is unimpressed. “Pretty sure I can trust you to dress yourself properly about as far as I can throw you.” There’s muffled childish giggling in the background. Oh man, the kid is still here. Adze winces. “Rime, I know you can hear me. When and where do you want this one?”

_“Seventeen hundred here is fine. They’ll need his car anyways.”_ Elsa’s voice comes over an intercom. _“And Doc, I really need to upgrade your security. That was sad.”_

Doc waves her hand, despite Elsa not being able to see it. “Do it while I’m helping the man who owns five of the same shirt look presentable, and we’ll call it even.” She turns to Anna, lips quirking up. “I don’t think I can help you, so you’re on your own.”

Adze’s completely resigned expression is so goddamn hilarious, Anna has no idea how she manages to stop herself from falling over laughing. “Don’t worry,” she chokes out. “I’ll be fine.”

She’s not really lying. When she gets back to her place, she immediately goes to her closet to see what she can throw together. It’s an odd mix of things. Anna didn’t take any of her fancy clothes with her when she left that night three years ago, having correctly decided they were far too impractical to take down here with her. But since then, even though she hasn’t gone back, she’s managed to collect a couple of things that could pass muster at an event like this with a little bit of polish.

Mama had been good at this sort of thing. These kind of press events, they were half advertisement for prospective investors, half party. They’re kind of the thing those in the Upper City decide to care deeply about, rather than the concerns of mere mortals down below; in short, completely asinine bullshit. Those were actually Mama’s words, not hers. Mama, unlike a lot of her peers, worked for a living, as she was fond of dryly noting. The cases she worked usually kept her too busy to even have time for the petty one-upmanship these events forced her through. She’d been kind enough to pass her secret onto Anna.

The clothes didn’t really matter. It was all in how you carried yourself.

Wearing something three years out-of-date? Carry yourself right and it’s a statement. Or retro. Or avant-garde, somehow. That sort of thing. And a healthy backing of the classics never hurt.

It’s with this in mind that Anna surveys what she has to work with. It’s a distraction, she knows, but it’s necessary because she’s actually going to have to do this, and she’d rather remember lessons from her dead mother than think about what she’s going to have to do this evening. Her fingers clench the fabric of the dress in her hands, and she shakes her head to clear it. Later. She’ll angst later. Right now, she has work to do.

“What’s the plan, Elsa?”

_“I told you earlier, I’ve accessed the list and now they’re also expecting Sophia and Elliot Donovan. Sophia’s the one from money; she married Elliot who’s from the mid-levels at best. Figured it was the best way to deal in case Adze isn’t comfortable.”_

“And what if I’m not comfortable?” Anna couldn’t help but muttering under her breath. Unfortunately, the subvocal mic is working just fine.

_“Anna. I’m sorry. I honestly don’t like you going up there any more than you do. But...”_ There’s a pause. _“If you absolutely don’t want to do this, we won’t. I’ll try to find another way.”_

Anna licks her lips. It’s tempting. Really tempting. But last night echoes in her mind. What would this cost Elsa? “How hard would that be?” Elsa doesn’t answer. “Elsa, tell me straight. How long would it take you to get in, without getting caught?”

_“...awhile. And without the backdoor, I’ll have to focus on it, to keep it open.”_

“Would they catch you?”

_“No.”_

Anna frowns. “Elsa...”

_“They wouldn’t catch me. But they’re more likely to notice a breach if I try to split my attention. And that’ll make it harder to stay hidden and find what we want.”_

She thinks about what her sister isn’t saying. The glitches, her exhaustion, all the things that cost her that she just brushes off. Like she’s inconsequential. Which is weird, because the _entire point_ of all this is to get her out of...wherever she is. Anna sometimes thinks Elsa could be bleeding to death, and she’d still try to make sure _Anna_ was fine. So, no. She can’t let it happen again. Because Elsa sure as hell wouldn’t stop herself unless Anna made her.

“No.”

_“Huh?”_

She shakes her head. “No. That option’s unacceptable. We’ll do it this way.”

_“Anna, if you’re uncomfortable...”_

“I said we’ll do it this way.” Her jaw hurts from gritting her teeth so hard. Come on, Elsa. Bend for once in your life. “It’s the best option. And it’ll be just like you said. Old home week.”

A long pause. _“Okay then.” Anna lets out the breath she was holding. “The hardest part will be getting to the museum, really. You’ll take Adze’s car up to the Middle City and then one of the interlevel trains Up. I’ll have a car waiting for you at the station.”_

Okay, that’s not ideal, but Anna remembers enough that taking the interlevel trains between Upper and Mid was not too much of a social _faux pas_. “I take it the Donovans live in the Middle City, because of Eliot?”

_“Yeah. You know how it is.”_

Anna does. At least all these memories and social conventions that still take up space in her brain might end up useful. That’s a cheery thought. And it’ll explain away if she isn’t all caught up on the latest fashions and stupid gossip. And no one will think they should recognize her, which is a disguise all in itself. “So once we’re in, then what?”

_“If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to network hop from you to the museum and then let Olaf loose. If we’re unlucky, you’ll need to drop an temp network drop for me.”_

“That’s...remarkably simple.”

_“Well, it’d be good if you could stick around to actually hear the press conference.”_

“Details. Will there be food?”

_“I assume so. It’s one of the stupidly-fancy parties. You remember the type.”_

“Okay, so at worse, I have to drop a chip in a potted plant and eat free food. This...this is not actually terrible, Elsa.” God, she had been making it sound like the worst thing ever.

_“Yes, ignoring all the people who could possibly recognize you and that you’ve been **hiding** from for the last three years.”_ Anna can almost hear Elsa rolling her eyes. _“Yes, beyond all that, I am clearly overreacting.”_

“Yeah, okay, fine. Point made.” She wants to stick out her tongue, despite being alone in the apartment. She does it anyway. “Now I have to go find an outfit.”

_“Please. Don’t let me keep you, your highness.”_

“The _worst_.”

With the amount of time she has before she needs to go back to meet Adze, she has more than enough time to find an outfit and get ready. She stares in the mirror for awhile, trying to see if she can’t recognize herself. The red hair is distinctive, it’s true, she thinks, looking at it critically as it falls in waves around her shoulders. Elsa’s teasing earlier comes to mind, and she smiles as she does up her hair. Yeah, this will work.

She hops over to the webcam she has set up after grabbing one of the temporary network drops from the closet and sticking it in a purse. “Hey, Elsa. What do you think?”

_“Anna, wha- your hair,”_ her sister says softly.

She smiles as she pets the single thick braid. It’s different enough from how Anna normally wears it. “See, not pigtails,” she jokes. She’d watched Mama comb Elsa’s hair back so many times when they were little, white strands skillfully woven between her fingers. Putting her own hair into her sister’s style was easy.

_“So...so I see.”_ Elsa sounds quiet. _“Once again, proving me wrong. You look...”_ She trails off.

“Elsa?”

_“You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.”_

That’s not what she was going to say, Anna knows this. But she’s right about the time, so Anna runs out the door anyway. She just wishes she knew what goes on in her sister’s head sometimes. Times like this, she’s bitterly aware that Elsa is a cipher. For all that they talk every day, for all that they depend on each other, there are things Anna doesn’t know, basic things. And she’s blocked from knowing them because Elsa won’t talk, will just shut down over things that Anna thinks are harmless. She doesn’t know what minefield she just stumbled into, but she’s been in enough of them to know when it’s just easier to back off and let it go.

It’s somewhat easier to do when she arrives at Doc’s. Adze is out front, next to his car. And...oh hello. Doc certainly outdid herself. Anna has no idea where she managed to find a suit, vest, and tie that fit and suited Adze so well in such a short period of time, but she did, and Anna is not complaining. Er. Not that it matters. No, because it means he’ll be able to be Elliot Donovan, no problem, because he definitely looks the part now. Yes. Um, wait, what was she thinking again?

“So does he pass inspection?” Anna turns, and Doc is leaning against the doorjamb, looking far too amused. Sven is at her feet, tongue lolling in a smug doggie grin. She didn’t even know smug doggie grins existed.

“He’ll...do,” Anna manages to get out.

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” Adze grumbles, tugging at his collar. Doc leans forward a bit to smack his hand away.

“Stop that.”

“It feels like it’s choking me!”

“ _I’ll_ choke you if you screw with it. That tie’s pure silk.”

Adze pouts a little, and oh my god, he just went from imposing to adorable. “I thought doctors weren’t supposed to cause harm.”

Doc crosses her arms and slouches further into the door. “Wasn’t always a doctor.” She waves a hand. “Arc is here, so you’d better get down to business.” Sven woofs. “Right. Have fun, you crazy kids.”

They get in the car quickly to get out of Doc’s line of sight. Then, it’s really awkward, sitting there and trying to not look at each other. Or out the window. Didn’t exactly leave many options. Gee, the upholstery in this car is fascinating.

“You, um, you look nice,” Adze voice cuts through her thoughts.

“Really? Oh, um, thanks.” Smooth, Anna. Very smooth. You’ll do _great_ at fitting right back into the slick polish of the Upper City. She glances over at him. “You’re really do look good in that.”

His ears go pink, and she can see his knuckles go whiter as he clutches the wheel tight. “Um. Thanks?” He clears his throat. “So, what’s the plan?”

So Anna tells him. She’s...only half-paying attention to it. It doesn’t fully distract her, and as they get further up, her thoughts go further in. She’s going on autopilot when they exit the car and get on the interlevel train. When the train breaks out into the free air, running through the skyscrapers and highrises that reach ever upward, glittering like jewels in the night, she has to close her eyes and _breathe_.

It’s been three years since she’s seen this. And every second, every breath she takes, makes her painfully, physically aware of this fact. The air is cleaner, up here. Anna’s forgotten, forgotten what clean air tastes and smells like, she’s so used to the oppressive misery that’s tangible down below. It’s a careless sort of decadence, thoughtless in its excesses. And going back to it feels like knives along her back, flaying the scabbed-over wounds open.

She sees the skybridge where her parents died.

“You can’t go home again,” she murmurs.

“Huh?” Adze looks at her.

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just a thought. Oh, our stop is coming up.”

Sophia and Elliot Donovan step off the train. Just like Elsa promised, there’s a black car waiting for them. The ride to the art museum is quiet. Anna can see Adze is trying not to be a slack-jawed slumdweller, and honestly, is succeeding rather admirably. Anything left is just the uncomfortableness that can be chalked up to Elliot. Sophia, though...Sophia is harder and easier. It needs to feel like homecoming, but it's anything but. The art museum looms closer, and Anna feels her mouth go dry. She’d forgotten.

The art museum is Papa’s creation, designed and built before she was born, but she still remembers going there. Clinging tightly to Elsa’s hand, and later, running ahead of Mama and Papa to get to the portrait rooms. The edifice looms before her, glinting pale blue in the moonlight and cool streetlights. It really is a homecoming.

Adze bumps her shoulder. “You ready?”

She takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” She turns to him, and he looks concerned and uncertain but it feels right and warm. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Not much has changed, not really. It still looks the same. The guard at the door doesn’t even blink when she tells her their names, merely looking them up on the guest list and then waving them through. “That went...surprisingly easily,” she mutters subvocally, pleasant smile plastered onto her face and aimed at everyone else.

_“Did you actually doubt me?”_ Elsa sounds more amused than insulted. She’s only on Anna’s subdural, Adze relying on staying close, because they didn’t have earpieces discreet enough on this short notice.

“Your cockiness is showing.”

_“Quiet you. And drop the net drop so I can get Olaf out.”_

“Pushy.” But she’s fighting a grin. A potted plant nearby — no really! — is good enough as anything, and all she has to do is brush past it to make the drop. The little thing is battery-operated, and by the time it’s run dry, Elsa will be long gone and hopefully Olaf will be wandering around their systems. That job done, and now all Anna’s got left is to basically mingle at a party with idiots with more money than sense.

Delightful.

Adze sticks close, half out of his cover story and half out of uncomfortableness. She’s not complaining. That and a superior tilt of the chin keeps pretty much everyone away, which is great because it means they don’t have to half-ass gossip. Like Mama said, it’s amazing what just looking like everyone should already know you already actually _works_. That said, the crowd doesn’t look all that terribly different from what she’d expect three years ago. Hell, she could swear that some of these people _were_ the same sort who’d attended her parents’ parties and events. No wonder Elsa was paranoid, no matter how unlikely it is that any of them actually remember the Arendelles’ daughter. Well, the officially-alive one, at any rate.

She grabs a nearby flute of champagne and a chocolate from a passing tray, cheerfully ignoring Adze’s rolled eyes. She’s working here. If keeping cover means eating chocolate, well, then she’ll totally eat chocolate.

“So how long are we here for?” he murmurs.

She swallows. “Until Rime gets what she needs,” she whispers back. “That’s gonna take at least until this speech thing actually starts.”

He sighs and pulls at the cuffs of his jacket. “Great.”

“Eh, whatever. Enjoy a sandwich.”

“I’m pretty sure that sandwich costs more than some people make in a week,” he grumbles, looking at the tiny pieces of bread and meat with not a small amount of disgust.

“Yeah, probably.” She shoves it into his hand anyway. “Think of it as subverting the system. Whoever ordered them would probably have a heart attack at the thought of you eating them.”

Adze shakes his head, but shoves the sandwich in his mouth anyway. “This is the most pathetic sandwich I have ever eaten in my life.”

“I know, right?”

Before they can turn the catering line into a comedy, however, ushers start to move the mingling crowd towards one of the wings specially set aside for the main event. “Nice timing, Rime,” she mutters.

_“I do try.”_

“Ugh.”

The wing’s been done up to almost hide the fact that they’re in the art museum, everything hidden by curtains and screens. Why they chose the _museum_ in that case, Anna has no goddamn clue. She has to catch herself against grinding her teeth in annoyance. Papa’s architecture was designed to work with this stuff, not against it.

There’s a stage with a podium set up at the front of the room, two large screens on either side. The lights dim and polite applause breaks out as an older woman strides out, heels clacking against the apparently real wood of the temporary stage. She’s austere in her fitted black pants-suit, salt-and-pepper hair is pulled back into a severe bun. Alice Haskell, CEO of Helios, smiles at the crowd as she looks out over them.

“Thank you all for coming, especially on such short notice,” she says, to polite laughter. Anna rolls her eyes. “I’m here to tell you tonight why it’s worth your while. As you all are no doubt aware, Helios prides itself on being a leader in a number of industries, from energy to shipping to manufacturing. The power that lights this city comes from Helios turbines, the prefabricated homes are developed in Helios factories. We strive for to be the best at what we do to better serve our customers’ needs.

“But in these times, that’s not enough. We have a duty to our customers and our neighbors to make all of our lives better. It’s not enough that we turn a profit. The number of zeros on our income returns is not the end-all, be-all of our responsibilities. And tonight, I’m pleased to share with all of you how Helios intends to live up to those.

“This very building was designed by one of the finest architects in our generation. Many called it his crowning achievement, a glittering jewel among many, and designed for the benefit of humanity, not profit. But this building is not Agdar Arendelle’s life’s work.” The screens on either side of Haskell come to life, and Anna feels her breath catch in her lungs. How did they get those designs? Papa hadn’t touched them since...she swallows hard. Since Elsa’s accident. How are they _here_?

“I worked with Agdar before he died. This,” she says, gesturing at the screens, “is his finest work, a design that hasn’t seen the light of day until now. A design that incorporates a perfect, livable, sustainable ecosystem for us to live in. An arcology.” Haskell smiles broadly. “A perfect habitat, where one has no worry of hurting the rest of the environment, where we can live our lives in peace, self-governing.”

Anna feels her hands clenching into fists. Papa _stopped_ work on this. There was a mistake, he said. The cost was too great. How dare they...how _dare_ they take his work? Is it because she left? Is this why she was forced to run, three years ago? For the thing Papa said he wished he could burn?

Haskell continues on, the audience around Anna bright and attentive. Of course they are. Of course... “Helios wants to make Adgar Arendelle’s dream a reality. To that end, it is my great pleasure to introduce the man who has partnered with us to make it happen. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. Benjamin Scratch.”

A man in a suit strides across the stage to shake Haskell’s hand. He turns and smiles pleasantly out at the crowd, brown hair flopping rakishly over his forehead. “Hi everyone. It’s a pleasure to be here tonight.” His voice is smooth.

_“Oh. Oh **fuck**. Anna, you have to get out of there.”_

Anna startles. “Rime, what-”

_“You have to get out of there now!”_

“Why? What’s —”

_“Because I know that man."_

Anna stares at him.

_"He’s the one who took me.”_

 

 

.END{protocol_01}


	8. protocol_02.00: gateway

**Three years ago.**

It’s been four days and Anna isn’t sure that she hasn’t made the biggest mistake of her life. So far, she’s barely slept, eaten through more of the food she packed than she’d like to admit, and barely avoided at least one mugging. Well, she assumes it was supposed to be a mugging. The guy reeked of alcohol and kind of collapsed on his face five feet in front of her in a puddle of...something...before he even finished his initial threat. 

Oh, and now it’s raining. 

All in all, it’s not a confirmation of every scary rumor she heard about the undercity at school, but it’s not much better. It’s worse, in a lot of ways. Poor desperation isn’t really a good topic for high school hallways Up Above. 

Anna’s throat goes tight at the thought of school. God, what are all her classmates thinking happened? Have any of them even noticed? That she’s gone, that she hasn’t come back. Does anyone even miss her Up there? 

She pulls her jacket closer. Honestly? Probably not. It’s funny how important things like who was dating who, or tests, or whatever seemed so vitally important even a week ago. Before her parents died. Before she knew her sister hadn't. In just a few days, Anna’s learned things she never knew about just how the city functioned. Or didn’t. 

It wasn’t like it was a complete surprise. Mama and Papa had talked for years about how bad things were, especially in the undercity. They were always trying to give money away for this project and that foundation. Trying to make things better, Mama said. Papa said they had a duty to do it, since they had so much, to give to people who had so little. That a society can’t function if people don’t give back. 

But none of that had been real, not really. Not until Anna had seen it all with her own eyes. And breathed it. And now was huddled under its slimy walls, trying to keep as much of herself dry as possible. It’s kind of a loss. 

At least the tablet is still dry. Or dry enough. She frowns at the drops of water on the surface, trying to hold it close enough to cover it with her jacket and keep it out of sight. Touchscreens still did not play nicely with water. And right now, the tablet is the most-important thing she has. The last thing she wants is for it to get stolen. Because as bad as it’s been, Anna’s pretty sure it’ll have been worse without her one lifeline. 

**LaPucelle:** I am seriously rethinking my life choices here.   
**Frost:** The part where you’re still breathing or not?  
 **LaPucelle:** Dammit, Elsa, this isn’t exactly easy. YOU’RE not the one standing in the rain wondering if you’re going to get mugged or worse.  
 **Frost:** ...no.  
 **Frost:** ...no I’m not.  
 **Frost:** Sorry.

Anna winces. Shit. She forgot. How the hell she managed that, but she did. Ugh. Way to be an asshole. 

**LaPucelle:** Sorry Elsa. That was a dick move.  
 **Frost:** ...it’s fine. Really.  


That almost makes it _worse_ , really. 

**LaPucelle:** No, it’s not. I’m complaining about you SAVING MY LIFE. And actually being able to feel the rain instead of...not.  
 **Frost:** ...it’s really fine. Don’t worry about it.  
 **LaPucelle:** It’s really, really not.  
 **Frost:** I’m _fine._ Just drop it, okay?  
 **LaPucelle:** Elsa  
 **Frost:** I said drop it.  


And that’s the end of that conversation. As effective as a door in her face, really. This isn’t the first time in the last four days something like this has happened. Elsa is _prickly_ , in a way Frost wasn’t. Or maybe Frost was also prickly, but didn’t really have reason to show it. It’s so hard to keep the two straight. Maybe that’s the point. Frost always _was_ Elsa, and the sooner Anna can actually wrap her head around that, the better it’s going to be. Because she keeps thinking of Frost-her-friend and Elsa-her-sister, and combining the two is _weird_ , even after four days. 

The tablet dings angrily, drawing her attention back to it. Oh shit. 

**LaPucelle:** Elsa! Battery!  
 **Frost:** Oh fishsticks —   


_Fishsticks_? What does that have to do with...oh god, that’s Elsa’s form of cursing. That is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, and if she wasn’t about to be totally screwed, she’d be dying of laughter right there. But the battery warning is flashing red and there’s just _no time_ for that. 

**Frost:** Anna. Get out of the alley, go straight, 4th intersection, turn right, 3 more streets, left.  
 **Frost:** You’re looking for a bar. Go there.  
 **Frost:** Sanc  


The tablet goes dark. Out of power. 

Anna huddles in her jacket, willing the tablet to come back to life. She swallows the knot in her throat, feels her eyes pricking. She’s alone. Really, really alone right now. No one can come for her, and the only person who actually gives a shit can’t talk. The dead tablet is a horrifying weight in her arms, but she clutches it to her chest. Bites her lip. 

Elsa told her to go somewhere. She’s going to have to trust her. And she’s going to have to trust herself. Trust that she can remember those directions, even though she only had seconds to read them. They weren’t that complicated. All she has to do is take a step. 

She bites her lip harder. Then puts her head down and steps into the freezing rain. 

She can do this. 

Anna repeats the directions in her head as she walks through the dark streets. Lamplights flicker overhead, trying their best, but it’s a lost cause. Most other people on the streets in this rain flit like insects from each circle of light. If she were to tilt her head up, she wouldn’t even see any of the glittering lights from Up above. None of that glitter falls all the way down here. Not unless it has to. 

Anna doesn’t lift her head. 

The building she’s looking for doesn’t look like much. But it’s well-kept and the outside looks clean, which is better than a lot of other places she’s seen in the last few days. A battered but obviously-cared-for sign hangs above the door, reading ‘Sanctuary’. She pushes open the door. 

Light spills out into the darkness. The first thing Anna realizes is that it’s warm inside. The door clicks shut behind her, but she barely hears it. The bar dominates the main space, and oh wow, is it made of actual wood? She breathes in, smells sawdust and spice, and her stomach growls. How did Elsa _find_ this place? 

She shakes her head. Then she realizes that the bar isn’t empty, and there are people giving her curious looks. She swallows hard, wraps her hands around her stomach, and tries to make herself smaller. Attention down here is bad. 

”Hey. Hey, are you all right?” 

Anna looks up. There’s a black woman in front of her, wearing a bar apron with a towel slung over a shoulder. Her eyes are kind, even as she gives her a once-over. Anna bites her lip again and tastes iron. “Who me? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just...fine.” 

The woman quirks an eyebrow. “Darlin’, you’re bleeding.” 

Anna wipes her lip hastily. “Oh, right. I did that to myself, nothing to worry about.” Her stomach growls again. 

The other woman’s eyebrows go flat. “Right then. Come on.” The way she says it makes it clear that if Anna even thought of not following, there’d be trouble. So, she follows. The woman leads her over to a corner of the bar. “Sit. Right there.” 

Anna sits. She disappears into the back, where Anna guesses there’s the kitchen, judging from the heat and smell. The high chair is surprisingly comfortable, and she can drop her bag on the floor and still have her feet resting on it. Not that she does. No, she’s still got one hand on the straps. The other curls around the edge of her wet jacket, the weight of the tablet in the inside pocket at least a cold comfort. 

A bowl of...something appears in front of her. It looks like a stew; there’s meat and rice and oh god are those honest-to-god vegetables? The spices alone make her mouth water. She looks up at the woman, who is standing over her with a ladle in hand, arms crossed. “I...” 

”Don’t you dare. It’s on the house.” 

Anna blinks, then hunches down further. “I can pay,” she says in a small voice. She’s had so much, she doesn’t need charity, not when there are so many other people around here worse off than she is. 

The woman frowns impressively and taps her free hand against the bartop. “I said it’s on the house. Now stop arguing with me, darlin’, and eat.” 

Anna gives up. She digs her spoon in and takes a bite, flavors and spice dancing on her tongue and warming her up from the inside. She nearly moans, it’s so good, and it’s warm and she hasn’t eaten anything made by someone who might _care_ in over a week. It’s only Mama’s voice in her head, and hearing that makes her eyes _burn_ , that stops her from shoving the food into her face as fast as she can. 

Her spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, chasing the last bits of rice, before she knows it. She looks up sheepishly, spoon half-dangling from her mouth. The woman’s eyes are soft and kind. She chuckles. “Well now. There’s a compliment. Let’s see about getting you a refill.” She whisks the bowl away and disappears back into the kitchen before Anna can even think of protesting. 

The second bowl arrives, smelling much like the first, and Anna’s a little embarrassed at how hungry she still is. But her jacket isn’t heavy just from the water, and she’s got something she needs to do. “Um. Not that I’m not, you know, really really grateful, but I was wondering if there was a place I could charge my tablet?” Anna swallows hard. “My...friend, she sent me here, but the battery died right after she did and she’s probably flipping out and...” she trails off. 

The woman smiles. “Hush. I’ve got you covered.” She ducks under the bar for a second then comes back up, cable in hand. “This work?” It’s the right connector, thank god, and Anna can’t speak because of the stupid lump in her throat so she just nods. “Here. Eat up and let your friend know you’re fine, okay? If you need anything else, just give me a holler. Or tell someone you need T and _they’ll_ give me a holler.” And with that, she disappears, off to take care of other customers. 

Anna slowly makes her way through the second bowl, trying to focus on chewing rather than willing the charging bar on the tablet to _work faster_ so she can at least have enough power to turn the stupid thing on. Funny how it’s easy to miss the things you take for granted when you don’t have them. Finally, the light goes green and the screen boots up. 

**LaPucelle:** Elsa!  
 **Frost:** Oh thank god. You okay?  
 **Frost:** I was worried!  
 **LaPucelle:** Yeah, I’m fine. I followed your directions. I’m at Sanctuary.  
 **LaPucelle:** How did you even FIND this place?!  
 **Frost:** It’s, uh, fairly well-known. In certain circles.  
 **LaPucelle:** What kind of circles?  
 **Frost:** ...blacksider ones.  


Anna nearly chokes on her spoonful. 

**LaPucelle:** Elsa!  
 **LaPucelle:** What the hell?! You sent me to a BLACKSIDER bar?!  
 **Frost:** I sent you somewhere _safe_.  
 **Frost:** There’s a reason it’s named “Sanctuary”.  


Okay, it’s not fair she can sound so damn _reasonable_ about this. The woman at the bar, T, she guesses, has been nothing but kind, and the rest of the bar seems to be keeping a respectful distance. It’s really not the kind of place she would have imagined if she heard “blacksider bar”. Maybe that was the point. 

**Frost:** Hey, did you...you didn’t tell anyone your name, did you?  


Now that she thinks about it... 

**LaPucelle:** No, I didn’t. No one even asked.  
 **Frost:** Good. That’s not exactly a Thing down here.  
 **LaPucelle:** People don’t have NAMES?  
 **Frost:** Ugh, no. It’s all...well, it’s all handles. Usernames.  
 **Frost:** And before you ask, yes, I’ve done a little work with blacksiders. That’s how I know.  


Wait, what? Elsa’s done _blacksider_ work? It hits Anna like a brick how very much a _stranger_ her sister is. 

**Frost:** So, you’re going to have to pick a name.  
 **LaPucelle:** What’s wrong with this one?  
 **Frost:** It’s too tied to you.  
 **Frost:** How many of your friends from school know that username?  
 **Frost:** How many shops?  
 **Frost:** It’s got to be as clean a break as possible.  


It makes sense, really it does. But it’s her life, and it’s a small, stupid thing, but it’s another thing she has to cut away and it _hurts_. 

**LaPucelle:** What about you? Shouldn’t that include you?  


She shouldn’t have typed that. Why did she type that? Oh, what was she thinking? 

**Frost:** Anna...  
 **Frost:** Would it make it better if I also changed my handle?  


Wait, Elsa would _do_ that? Maybe it’s because she’s so mixed up with Frost in Anna’s head, it seems like crazy-talk. Because she’s really having trouble splitting the two. And Frost is _Frost_. That means something, right? 

**LaPucelle:** But didn’t you say that you did blacksider work? Don’t people know you by that name?  
 **Frost:** Doesn’t matter, not really.  
 **Frost:** It wasn’t anything big.  
 **Frost:** So pick a name.  


Anna pauses, chewing thoughtfully on her spoon. Names are important, especially down here, it seemed. And maybe it’ll make things a little clearer, to not have Elsa-as-Frost and Frost-as-Elsa as the same person, and for herself as well. She can stop thinking about what she’s lost, what she’s left behind. A clean break. 

**LaPucelle:** Arc. I’ll be Arc.  
 **Frost:** Arc? Are you serious?  
 **Frost:** The point was...  
 **Frost:** Argh. Fine.  
 **LaPucelle:** Oh yeah? Well, what are you changing to, oh experienced one?  
 **Frost:** Rime.  
 **LaPucelle:** Okay, hold up, how is THAT any better?  
 **Rime:** Says the girl who keeps naming herself after Jeanne d’Arc.  
 **LaPucelle:** Hey now, Joan’s awesome. And what the hell, “Rime”?  
 **Rime:** ...I like ice.  


Okay, her sister is _weird_. Anna laughs softly, and then a thought strikes her. Is Elsa laughing too, at the ridiculousness of the conversation? Or is she dry and teasing? There’s just some things that text can’t tell her, and she finds herself desperately wanting more. They only have each other, and Anna needs _more_ than just words on a screen. 

**LaPucelle:** I wish I could hear you.  


“Sounds like your friend’s been reassured.” Anna nearly jumps out of her skin. T blinks at her from behind the bar. “Jumpy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Anna can feel her ears start burning as she slouches slightly in the high chair. “Um...” 

T waves her off. “No, no, it’s a good instinct.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you know, there _are_ ways to talk to your friend over the Net.” 

”I...how did...?” 

The smile she gets is soft. “You said that bit aloud. Don’t think anyone but me heard you. But I was coming ‘round to check on you anyway.” 

”Oh.” Anna swallows and looks down. “You don’t, you don’t have to worry about me. Don’t you have other customers?” 

T shrugs. “Husband-o’mine can pull his weight a bit,” she says, grinning. “Take care of them for awhile. So yes, I absolutely can check on you.” She leans on the bar. “So, back to your problem. Blacksiders use headsets all the time. No reason you can’t.” 

Anna looks up. “I don’t have a headset, though. I...” left it all behind, she doesn’t say. “...don’t have one.” 

The older woman leans back. “Well, I do have some. Blacksider-issue, so I can’t just give them away.” Her frown is apologetic. “Sorry, darlin’.” 

Anna bites her lip. She _does_ have some money, and while Elsa might flip out over her using it on this, this is something she _needs_ , same as air. 

**LaPucelle:** Elsa?  
 **Rime:** Hm?  
 **LaPucelle:** How do you feel about headsets?  
 **Rime:** Headsets? I’m sorry, I’m confused.  
 **LaPucelle:** I think it’d be easier if we talked on headsets. I can’t type as fast as you can, and getting cut off is bad.  
 **LaPucelle:** T (woman who works at this place) offered to sell me one.  
 **Rime:** Actually she owns it.  
 **Rime:** But that’s not important right now.  
 **Rime:** They’re expensive.  
 **LaPucelle:** How did you know that? Wait, whatever, of course you did.  
 **LaPucelle:** I’m pretty sure I have the money for it. And...I need it.  
 **LaPucelle:** Wait, do YOU have access to a microphone and speakers?  
 **LaPucelle:** I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask, and I mean, you could totally not, and   
**Rime:** I can make it work.  
 **Rime:** If it’s what you need, Anna, I can make it work.  


T is still there, still watching her with warm eyes. Letting her take the time she needs, as if she’s the only other person in this bar. Anna bites her lip. “How much? 

She names a price, and Anna nods, reaching for her credstick, then thinking better of it and going for some of the loose money she has. “Here.” T nods as she takes it, then disappears around a corner for a few minutes before coming back with a slim earpiece and microphone. 

”This should just plug into your tablet,” she says, handing Anna a wireless widget along with the headset itself. Anna plugs it in and waits. 

**LaPucelle:** Headset is plugged in.  
 **Rime:** Okay. Let me install a thing on your tablet.  
 **Rime:** And there. Try it?  


Anna takes a breath. Her heart is racing for some reason. Anticipation? She’ll get to hear her sister’s voice for the first time in a very long time. It won’t be the child’s voice she keeps thinking, even if she knew Frost was older. Well, now Rime. She puts on the headset. “Hello?” she whispers. 

There’s a long pause. Then the earpiece cracks to life. _“Hello, Anna.”_

The voice is all _wrong_. Stiff and tinny. It sounds like one of the GPS systems that she’s heard in cheaper skycars. “Hey, what the hell? You sound like a robot.” 

_”Oh. It must be a filter setting. Hold on.”_

Somehow, Anna’d expected Elsa to be _better_ at this. It’s actually a little endearing. Proof her sister is human, is real. 

_”Better?”_ The voice is still a little stiff, but it sounds like a human woman. Teenager. The word sounds a bit different. But it’s still enough to make Anna grin from ear to ear. 

”Yeah. Yeah, a lot better.” 

_”Good. I’m glad.”_ There’s a bit of a pause, all awkward silence. T’s wandered off to another part of the bar, apparently intending to leave Anna to some privacy for her conversation. _”I hate to bring this up now, but whatever money you managed to grab isn’t going to last forever.”_

Dammit, she’s right. The headset _did_ take a sizable chunk out of her funds, even though it’s clearly totally worth it, but she needs that to eat. “I don’t even know what I could do down here. Most places aren’t looking to hire 15-year-olds.” 

_”None you’d want anyway,”_ Elsar says, voice hard. _”There’s not a lot. Even fewer I’d want you doing.”_

”You can’t protect me forever, you know. We’re in this together.” 

_”I can try.”_ A pause. _”But point taken.”_

Anna drums her fingers against the bar, enjoying the feel of hard wood against her fingernails. She looks out at the rest of the room. It really is a blacksider bar. Most people look to be on the wrong edge of sharp and rough; even she can see the wary looks and tired eyes, the young ones trying to posture or drown themselves in their drinks, while the older ones seem to have just gone straight for the latter. But no one looks _hungry_ , at least, not in the same way she’s seen other people down here look. They at least lack that part of desperation. If they’re hungry here, it’s not for food. 

Her eyes are drawn to a table in a corner, occupied by four blacksiders. They’re brash and cocky, bright hair and brighter eyes. They can’t be much older than she is. 

She bolts upright. That’s it! “I could be a blacksider.” 

_”Wait, what? Anna, no...”_ The audio crackles a bit. _”What part of ‘safe’ don’t you understand?”_

”And what part of ‘in this together’ don’t you get?” Anna huffs. “You did it.” 

_”That was different!”_

”I don’t see how!” 

Elsa makes a frustrated noise. It sounds more like a distorted growl; she really needs to work on her microphone. _”Well, for one, I wasn’t physically in danger.”_

Okay, that’s a really good point. “Look, I— _we_ need the money. And I wouldn’t be alone. You’d help me, right?” 

_”...you actually have to ask that?”_ There’s a pause, long enough that Anna bites her lip, wondering what Elsa is thinking. _”Of course I would.”_

”All right then.” Awesome. Blacksider work paid enough, right? They’d be able to get money for equipment and clothes and food and a place to stay. All that stuff they’re going to need if they’re even going to have a chance to track down where Elsa’s being kept. Except, there’s just one problem. “Er...how does one become a blacksider?” 

Anna’s honestly surprised she can’t hear Elsa slamming her head against something, she sounds so resigned. _”You have got to be kidding me...”_

”Well, lesson one is probably being a little quieter when talking about plans with your partner,” T interjects dryly. Anna’s head snaps up to stare at the woman, who’s calmly drying a glass in front of her. “Honey, blacksider-grade microphone means you barely have to whisper, and it picks up.” 

She feels the tips of her ears go hot. “Oh.” 

T hums a little as she continues drying. “No one here’s going to bother you about that, though. And I’m probably the only one that overheard you. Now,” she says, putting down the glass. “What’s this about becoming a blacksider?” 

Somehow, it seems harder to explain to a stranger than to Elsa. “I, um, well, I need the work. And my, uh, friend said she’s done it before, so she’ll help, but she isn’t, um, good with people?” Well, that sounds stupid. 

T eyes her skeptically. “Your friend sounded none too thrilled with this.” 

”Yeah, well, um...she’s worried?” 

”Smart. It ain’t an easy path.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Athough I get the impression I could offer to have you work here bussing tables, and you wouldn’t take it.” 

It _is_ a generous offer, considering the woman doesn’t know her at all. But bussing tables won’t make enough to find Elsa. “Um, not that I’m ungrateful or anything, but...” 

T drops her arms. “Yeah, I figured as much. Don’t look so guilty. Everyone down here’s got their reasons. Yours ain’t anyone’s business but your own.” She signs and then straightens, looking stern. “I can help you out, but in return, you’re going to have to stay here. There’s rooms for rent above the bar, and I’ll put you up in one of them. I’m not about to have someone your age wandering the streets without a roof over her head, you hear?” 

Anna feels like she just got hit in the head with a brick. “Um, yes, ma’am.” 

”Good, you’re polite, always nice to hear. Now grab your things, and I’ll take you upstairs. I’ll make some calls, and first thing tomorrow, I’ll take you to meet the Contessa. She’ll be able to teach you.” T yells something to the kitchen and then ducks out from behind the bar in the time it takes Anna to scramble out of her seat and grab her bag. She follows after T, nearly stumbling a few times. With the promise of an actual bed, it’s like it suddenly hit her just how tired she is. 

The room T takes her to isn’t anything special. It’s barely big enough to fit a bed, a desk, and a storage trunk. But it’s clean and dry and warm. “Oh wow, thank you. Are you sure — “ 

T holds up a hand. “Not another word. Bathrooms through this door, it’s private, so no one should bother you. Now get some sleep, all right? You need anything, just find me. I’ll see you in the morning.” She’s halfway out the door when she pauses. “Oh, right. What names should I give the Contessa?” 

Right. New names, new people. She can do this. She’s going to be a blacksider. Anna takes a breath. “Tell her Arc and Rime. I’m Arc.” 

T nods. “All right then. Welcome to Sanctuary, Arc.”


	9. protocol_02.01: kernel panic

“What do you mean?”  Anna hisses.

_“I would think that’s pretty damn obvious, don’t you?”_

“Yes.  Which is why I’m wondering why we’re _running_ instead of _kicking his ass._ ”  Why oh why did she wear heels to this?  She’s staring at Scratch, forcing herself to memorize every inch of him she can, from the streaks of grey at his temples to his far-too-shiny shoes.  He’s talking.  It really doesn’t matter what he’s saying.  Anna doesn’t know if she’s ever felt hate like this before.  Because that’s what this emotion has to be, right?  Every fiber of her feels like all it wants to do is wrap her hands around his throat and _squeeze_.  Until he chokes out where, where, _where Elsa is_.

_“Because you can’t win.  Not here.  Not right now.”_   Elsa’s voice is hard, unyielding as a glacier.  _“He’s **dangerous** , Anna.”_

“He won’t be expecting it right now,” she growls.

_“Anna.  Anna, **please**.”_   The words are soft and cold, a shard of ice running down her spine.  And Anna’s rage tempers, hot and glowing under the coals but no longer raging, not in the face of Elsa’s begging.  _“You can’t right now.  It’s not worth it.”_

“How can you say that, E-Rime?” she catches herself, breathing it out past fixed lips.  “How can you say that about yourself?”

_“Please, Anna.  Please.  Not now.  There are things you don’t know.  Pick your battles, damn it.”_   And Anna can imagine Elsa closing her eyes as her voice softens to a brittle sort of hardness.  _“You can’t win here.”_

“Damn it,” she breathes.  “Give me a reason, Rime.  Just one reason.”

_“The snipers on the roof.  At least five bodyguards in the room.  But more importantly, it’s his territory.  He owns this room right now, Anna.  You don’t even have your gear. **Please** , Anna.  I can’t lose you.”_

What can she say in the face of that?  Damn it all to hell, there’s nothing.  Her fist hurts.  She looks down and sees her knuckles are white, her nails digging into the flesh of her palm.  She unclenches her hand, feels the blood rush back.  The pain lingers.  “I hate this.”

_“I know.”_

Scratch is still talking through this.  His voice is too smooth, too...pleasant, it doesn’t even matter what he’s saying.  Anna finally looks at the crowd, how they’re eating all this up, the rich nitwits.  It makes her sick.  Not one of them knew her family, and they’re listening to the man who destroyed it.

_“Anna, you have to go.”_

Story of her life, isn’t it?  Even when she wants to, she can’t face her problems head-on.  No, it’s always running, she’s always running.  But her sister is right; she can’t do anything right now.  However much it hurts to say that.  She almost wishes Scratch would stare at her, see her as a ghost, of what he destroyed.  Some day, Anna swears, she’ll stare him in the eyes as she takes everything from him like he did her.  But not today.

Something jostles her arm.  She blinks, and there’s Adze, leaning in close.  “You all right there?”

Thank god for him.  To anyone looking at them, it just looks like a concerned husband talking to his wife.  Anna belatedly realizes he’s been playing his part and covering her like this the entire time.  Right, even more reasons why now isn’t the right time.  Adze at least deserves to _know_ he might be signing on for a firefight before she commits to one.

So she plasters on a weak smile.  It’s not really acting.  “Actually, can we get out of here?”

He blinks.  He looks concerned, frowning slightly.  “Everything all right?”

It’s times like this she actually wishes she worked enough with other people to develop codephrases.  “Not...sorry, I’m just not...”

Adze gets it enough.  “Hey, it’s okay.  If you’re not feeling well, you’re not feeling well.  Let’s get out of here.”

He puts an arm around her shoulders, a half-second hesitation before he does is the obvious apology that he’s invading her space.  But Eliot would do it, so Adze has to.  She’d not mind it, not really, if it were another time, even though his arm is a solid weight against the storming sea of her emotions.  It’s an anchor, and she’s not going to refuse it, not right now.  Not when she still desperately wants nothing more than to turn around and end the man who ruined her family. 

They turn around and leave while Scratch is still rhapsodizing about her father’s stolen work.  Adze’s arm doesn’t leave her shoulders, even as they weave through of the crowd. 

They nearly make it to the main entrance hall when it happens.  “Anna?  Anna Arendelle?”  Her step falters half a second before she keeps walking, and she knows Adze noticed, but maybe not whoever the hell this is.  “Anna!”

Dammit.

_“ **Anna**....akjaloulaljo.” _  She has to fight off a wince at the sound.  Christ on a bicycle, what is Elsa doing, eating the damn microphone?  Okay, understandably frantic.

There’s nothing for it, then.  She turns around, schooling her face into the most puzzled look she can.  The speaker is a young woman, about her age, dressed in a server’s uniform.  She looks vaguely familiar.  Anna thinks back, all faces of people who would have known her by that name.  The face clicks.  Second period, history, fifth row, third from the back.  Tina?  Talia?  Tessa?  No, probably Talia.  “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Maybe-Talia falters.  Thank you, Mama, for those lessons in confident body language.  “I...I went to school with you.”

Anna slowly shakes her head.  “I’m sorry,” she says again.  “But I’ve never seen you before in my life.  And my name is Sophia.  Sophia Donovan.”

Probably-Talia squints, opens her mouth, closes it, and then slumps.  “I’m sorry, ma’am.  You just looked like someone I knew.  I guess the event made me remember her.”  She twists her fingers together nervously.  “Might need some water if I’m seeing ghosts.  Um.  Sorry to bother you ma’am, sir.  I...I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.”  And then she hurries off.

Anna watches her go for a second.  She hasn’t thought about those people, the people who actually knew her, classmates and friends, in three years.  She really didn’t let herself; it seemed like too much of a rabbit hole of ‘if’s and ‘maybe’s.  Questions about if they noticed, if they cared, if they mourned.  Did any of them remember her, when she didn’t let herself really remember them?  Or where those friendships as permanent as a dream, wiped away in the morning, like they seemed those nights she spent alone before she left?

Apparently, at least one person remembers.

_“At some point, you and I are going to have a Very Serious conversation about the concept of **disguise** ,”_ Elsa hisses.

“I’ll pencil that in right after our discussion about what the actual fuck is going on tonight,” she grits out.

Adze is looking even more worried, and right now, it’s probably more legit worry than play-acting.  They need to get out of here, before someone else recognizes her.  Or tries to stop them, which would be worse, because if it turns into a fight, she’s not going to be able to keep her promise to Elsa.  So they need to get back to the undercity, and fast.

“Rime, if you’ve got a car lined up for us, that’d be great,” she mutters under her breath.

_“On its way.  Should be there in three.”_  

“Great.”

Once they manage to push their way through the rest of the wing, it’s actually pretty much a straight shot to the main entrance.  Most of the attendees are still either listening to the asshole or doing the overly-rich social power game thing.  Which basically means the front hall is empty except for staff.  One of the security guards looks up as they approach.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Thanks, but we’re just not feeling well,” Adze grips her shoulder a little tighter.  “You know how it is.  Just going to head home for the night.”

The guard blinks and then nods knowingly.  What the?  “Completely understandable.  Do you need us to call someone?”

Adze waves him off.  “No, I think our driver should be here any minute now,” and of fucking course a black car pulls up to the front of the museum right at that moment.  Anna could kiss Elsa for that, her and her goddamn perfect timing.  “Ah, there it is.  Have a good night!” he says, waving back to them as he leads her down the steps to the car.

They’re silent on the way back to the station, and silent on the train back to the Middle City.  Her gut’s still twisted in knots, anger sitting there like smoldering coals.  The glowing lights of the Upper City pierce her eyes as she stares out the window.  The glass is cool against her forehead, and the hot versus the cold is probably a metaphor for something.  She feels like she’s being torn in two all over again, once more on the run down to the undercity, down back into the shadows away from the light.  Despite how far she’s already fallen, how far she’d already climbed, how far she’s already run, she’s still not good enough.  There’s still too much distance.

She wants them back.  There’s a part of her that wants Mama and Papa back, for it to be three years ago and her parents to be alive.  She’d give so much just to hear Papa’s laugh and feel Mama’s hugs.  But if it was three years ago, Elsa would still be dead, still gone without anyone knowing she wanted to be found.  So really, she wants three years and another life ago, the one where her family was never shattered.  Where she didn’t have to bury their parents alone, where her sister wasn’t lost in the dark, where she didn’t have to watch her parents’ legacy be turned into a mockery of itself.

Anna clenches her suddenly burning eyes shut.  She will not cry, not here, not now.  Pick yourself up and try again.  Keep walking.

It isn’t until they’re safely in Adze’s car that he finally breaks the silence.  “Look, I know, well, I know it’s not really any of my business, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’d get it.  I totally would.  But...it’d kinda be nice to know some things.”  He’s quiet when he says it, not looking at her, watching the road instead.  It sounds like he’s not going to judge, sounds like he means it.

And really, at this point?  He does deserve it.  But this is a step they haven’t taken yet, to bring someone else in.  “Rime?” she asks subvocally.

_“It’s up to you, Anna.”_

The weight of everything just feels so _heavy_ on her shoulders right now.  Maybe he’s throwing her a rope.  Hopefully, it’s not to hang herself with.  Anna closes her eyes and jumps off the cliff.  “What do you want to know?”

He’s quiet for a moment.  “That girl, the one on the way out.  She recognized you, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out.  “She did.  I went to school with her.”

“Then...”

Anna nods, then rests her head against the car window.  “Yeah.  My name is Anna Arendelle.  Yes, _that_ Arendelle.”

Adze sucks in a breath.  “Okay.  Wow.  Okay then.  Aren’t you supposed to be missing?”

“Is that what the story is?”

“Uh, yeah.  Wait, you don’t know?”

She shrugs.  “I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the news those first few days.  Kinda too busy trying not to end up dead in a gutter somewhere.  And then I never bothered checking.”

“Okay.”  He looks like he doesn’t want to ask the next obvious question.

So she does it for him.  “You want to know why I ended up down here.”

Adze has the grace to look sheepish.  “I was trying not to ask.”

“No, it’s...well, it’s not fine, but it makes sense, I guess.”  She sighs.  “I ran.  Night of my parents’ funeral.”

It’s quiet again for a long moment before he asks “Why?”

“I needed to.  The news was wrong: my parents didn’t die in an accident.  They were murdered.”

“And you thought whoever did it would come after you next.”  It’s to his credit, really, that he doesn’t question that it wasn’t an accident, that he takes her at her word.  It’s crazy.  “How’d you find out?”

“Rime told me.  Well, she wasn’t called Rime then, she went by Frost.”  Anna realizes she’s in freefall here, there’s no stopping this, and all she can hope for is that someone’s on the ground ready to catch her.

Because Adze isn’t stupid, because he’s asking the right questions, and she owes him this.  “How did...?”

“How did she know?”  She turns away from the window to look at him.  “They were looking for her when they were killed.  Rime’s my older sister.”

Adze’s head whips around to face her so fast, she’s afraid he’s going to lose control of the car or slam the breaks.  He quickly looks back at the road, but he’s now focused on her.  “What?  But the Arendelles...”

“There was a car accident when I was five.  We thought Elsa...didn’t survive.  I remember the funeral.”  She doesn’t even know how she’s getting the words out, breathing life to the pain and grief all over again.  Papa ripped up so many of his drawings in the weeks and months afterward.  Mama barely worked, staying at home instead to watch her, although Anna would sometimes find her staring at nothing.  Today must be a day for ripping open old wounds.  “We thought she was dead.”

_“Anna...”_

“It’s all right, Elsa,” she says so Adze can’t hear.  She takes a deep breath, and then plunges on louder.  “But she wasn’t.  Someone had taken her, stolen her away.”

“But she found you.”

“Not...not exactly.”

He frowns.  “How is it ‘not exactly’?”

“Elsa’s somehow able to access the Net.  But she can’t leave wherever she is.  She’s trapped.  She’s _been_ trapped, for the last thirteen years.”

This time, Adze _does_ slam on the breaks.  Thankfully, the street they’re on is completely devoid of traffic as he stares at her.  “ _Thirteen years_?” 

Anna slouches in the car seat, suddenly exhausted.  “Yeah.  That’s why no one sees Rime.  They _can’t_.” 

He works his jaw a few times.  “I just thought she, I don’t know, I just thought she had a thing about _dirt_ or something.”  He leans back heavily in his seat, staring out the front windshield.  “Fuck a duck, thirteen years,” he breathes. 

“We don’t know where she is,” she says dully.  “Mama and Papa found out something and then were killed for it.  I’ve spent the last three years looking for my sister.” 

The car is silent.  Eventually, Adze starts driving again.  Anna stares out the window, wrung out and praying she didn’t make the biggest mistake of her life.

“Kristoff.”

She jumps a little then looks at him.  He’s staring at the road.  “My name is Kristoff Bjorgman.”  He flashes her a weak smile, and suddenly, her shoulders feel lighter.  “I figure _I_ owe you guys that much.”

There’s a warm feeling inside her at the sight of his smile.  It’s different from the anger, more like a blanket than a raging fire.  The streetlights are getting dimmer, the lights not as bright as the Upper City.  Strange as it is to say, the undercity feels more like home.  The streets are more familiar, dangerous but safe in ways she can’t say. 

Adze — Kristoff — clears his throat, shaking her out of her thoughts.  “So, tonight...that was related to getting Rime out?” 

Anna lets out a huff and slouches into the seat again.  “Yeah.  It was.  She figured out Helios had something to do with it.”

“And?”

She pulls her hair, not caring she’s messing up the braid.  “Oh, they totally have something to do with it.  Turns out, that asshole they brought out, Scratch?  He’s the asshole who _took_ her.  Rime recognized him.” 

He blinks a few times.  “Okay.  Explain a thing,” he says slowly.  “If Scratch has her, why are we _here_ and not kicking his ass?”

“ _Thank_ you!”  She can’t help herself, the thrill of vindication running up her spine like a current.

The car stereo lets out a burst of static.  _“It’s not that simple,”_ Elsa says, sounding tense.

“Uh, Rime?  Wait, how did you...?” 

Anna waves her hand.  “Get used to it.  She does that.”

Elsa doesn’t even bother responding to that. _“It’s easier this way than playing telephone with my sister here.”_

Kristoff moves his mouth a few times before he’s able to make words come out.  “Uh, right.  So, how is it more complicated?”

_“Well, for one thing, there were the armed guards and the snipers.  And you without gear.  No offense, but those aren’t good odds.”_

“Wait, really?  I was watching that crowd.  I only saw the standard security,” he says, frowning.

_“They weren’t in the crowd.”_

“Then how did you...?”

_“Anti-theft biometric tags on their firearms.”_

_That_ , Anna did not know.  Kristoff lets out a low whistle.  “Okay, that’s serious.”  Complete understatement, seeing as how that’s totally mil-spec hardware.

“How did he get his hands on that?” she wonders.

_“I told you.  Scratch is **dangerous**.”_

“Yeah, well, there’s dangerous, and then there’s _that_.”  Anna shakes her head. 

Kristoff is frowning as he drives.  “Seriously.  Not many people rate that kind of hardware.  Even less that a megacorp would work with.  I’ve never heard of the guy until tonight.”

Elsa sounds tired.  _“You wouldn’t have.  Benjamin Scratch doesn’t exist.”_

Anna bolts upright.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Hold up a second.  How can he not exist?  He was right there.”

_“So were Sophia and Eliot Donovan.”_

“Yeah, but he’s working with _Helios_.  That’s not the same kind of thing,” she points out.  “And I’d assume people would talk.” 

_“Sure.  And if you ran a search on him, you’d pull up his birth records, university diploma, and a couple of articles about him.  Or the odd paper written by him.”_  

“Okay, I’m not following,” Kristoff says.  “That sounds like he exists.”

The stereo lets out a burst of static.  _“Sure, but that’s **all** I can find.  The big things are all there, but there’s **nothing** else.  He doesn’t exist in the world.  I can’t tell you where he buys his overpriced coffee.  Or if he takes the train or drives to work.  Or how well he tips his waiters.  All the little traces people leave behind.” _ Elsa has rarely sounded so frustrated. _“He’s a ghost.”_  

It’s not something Anna would have thought of checking.  But Elsa’s right.  There’s all sorts of little traces people leave behind, even when they try to live off the grid as much as possible.  Loose cash helps, but someone like Scratch, someone working that closely with a megacorp?  They’d be pulling out credsticks, not cash.  They’re the people who _would_ leave traces, and if one thought to look, this looks weird.

But who would even think to look?  It doesn’t sound like this is the first time Elsa thought to look for these sorts of things.  Sometimes, she really wonders how in the world her sister thinks, because it’s so utterly bizarre at times. 

Speaking of, there’s something that’s been gnawing on the back of her brain.  “Hey.  If he’s the one who took you, whatever his name is, how come you didn’t recognize him sooner?  I mean, I’m pretty sure you had the security cameras.”

Elsa’s quiet again.  _“I never saw him.  I didn’t know what he looks like.  I’ve only ever heard his voice.”_  

“Wait, he kidnapped you, has held you for thirteen years, and you don’t know what he looks like?”  Kristoff sounds appalled.  Or confused.  Anna doesn’t blame him. 

_“I...”_ A pause. _“There was fire.  And a lot of pain.  And when I woke up, there wasn’t anyone there.”_

He swears under his breath.  Anna can’t even manage that much.  The words lodge themselves into her brain, and she chokes on them.  Elsa’s never talked much about that night, and Anna’s never asked.  Never wanted to know, even though she did.  How did it even happen, how did she get taken, all of that.  But she never thought about what it would _mean_ , not really.  Certainly not an eight-year-old girl waking up alone and hurting.

Her heart aches and her eyes burn.  She has to look away, rubbing her eyes. 

“Right,” Kristoff’s voice is rough, as if he’s holding back rage and grief himself.  “So we’ve got a man who doesn’t exist to find.”  He swallows hard.  “We find him, we get you, right?” 

_“...yeah, I think so.”_

He breathes deeply through his nose.  “Okay then.  So how do we find a ghost?”

_“Kristoff, you don’t...”_

“I understand that we only met a few days ago.  And that people like us don’t trust easy.”  Anna looks up, and sees he’s gripping the wheel, jaw clenched.  “But if you think for one second that I can walk away right now, you don’t know me at all.”

“Kristoff,” she whispers.  She can’t manage more than that right now.

_“...thank you.”_

He nods once.  “So,” he says, a little easier now, “how do we do it?”

_“I’ve got something monitoring Helios’ internal network, but that’s...not really a guarantee.  Not with him,”_ Elsa admits.

“Damn.  Anything else?”

_“Looking for him based on ‘Benjamin Scratch’ just gets me what he wants me to see.  It’s all stuff that’ll satisfy a reporter, but nothing substantial.”_   She sounds so very grumpy.  _“I’d need his real name to actually find him.”_

How do you find a ghost?  Someone who flickers in and out of life, someone who doesn’t even leave a trail in the Net, barely leaving a physical mark in the real world?  But he does, doesn’t he?  Elsa said she only recognized him by his voice, but he does have a face.  He can’t entirely not exist, not really.  Not if he rates that kind of firepower.  Not if he can call up that kind of firepower.  Men like him have to come from somewhere.  

So the trick is figuring out where.  Records of him have to exist; they just have to find a system that hasn’t been compromised.  And there are some systems, some networks that can’t be hacked at all.  

They can’t erase human memory.

“I’ve got an idea,” she says.  Kristoff turns his head, asking the question with his expression alone.

Elsa doesn’t even need to ask.  _“Oh.”_

Anna grins.  Time for some good old-fashioned legwork.  It’s what she’s good at, after all.  She’s bad at sitting still.  She needs to run forward, run towards the goal. 

Pick yourself up and try again. 

The core of anger she’s been nursing all night flares to life again, but this time, it’s sharp, directed.  She knows where she needs to go now.

After all, who better to go to than the person who controls the biggest blacksider network in the city?

“Yeah.  We’re going to the Black Court.”  Her grin turns feral.  “It’s time we paid the Contessa a visit.” 


	10. protocol_02.02: hash function

Despite how much Anna may want to race over to the Black Court, it’s been a long day, and it’s never been a good idea to verbally spar with, or even have a friendly chat with, the Contessa on no sleep. Which it has a high chance of being because her sort-of mentor likes that sort of thing. Plus Kristoff needs to return the suit before Doc kills him, and she needs out of these damn heels. They’ll meet up at Doc’s again mid-morning and make their way over then.

 Which leaves her up to her own devices once she’s back at her apartment, having showered and changed into the most comfortable pair of pajamas she owns. Even though she’s emotionally exhausted from everything, she’s just too wired to sleep, so she’s left staring at the ceiling. The muted lights from the street mix with the glowing monitor to washout the room in bluish-grey.

_“Go to sleep, Anna.”_

Anna sighs. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

_“Which part?”_

“Any of it.” She flings her arm around before letting it flop back down on the bed. “All of it.”

_“Of course it does.”_

“It’s just...this is the closest we’ve been in three years. And we had to run.” She thumps her head against the pillow for emphasis. “I hate running.”

_“I know.”_

“And you’re just so, so...so accepting of all of this!”

_“What else am I supposed to be?”_

Anna rolls over. “I don’t know, maybe more...frustrated? Angry? Three years is a long damn time.”

_“I’ve waited longer,”_ Elsa says. Ugh, and the truth of that is the worst really. Anna sometimes wants to throttle her sister for being so damn calm and...doormat-like about this. _“A bit longer isn’t going to kill me.”_

Anna winces. That’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t know what to do when Elsa talks like that. Because it’s been more than three years, so very long, and she doesn’t know what that means for her sister, not anymore. She doesn’t know how Elsa’s been living, and from the little she’s learned, including what she told Kristoff tonight, it really doesn’t paint a good picture.

Now that she knows, she can admit, well, it’s _easier_ to admit, that Elsa was right. Going after Scratch, or whatever his name is, tonight would have been a mistake. Thinking back on it, now that she _could_ think more clearly, Elsa had sounded...well, she’d sounded _scared_. Which, considering the firepower he’s capable of packing, seems entirely reasonable. And he’s the one who took her. God, she said she never even saw his face. Anna had nightmares about the crash for months afterward, waking up crying and begging to sleep in between Mama and Papa.

She really doesn’t like this picture.

“Elsa,” she murmurs into the pillow.

_“Yes?”_

“You’d tell me, right? You’d tell me if something was wrong with you.”

_“...of course.”_

Anna breathes out. They can deal with this, working together. Just like they’ve always done. If one way doesn’t work, she’ll try another. It’s just a matter of not giving up. The Contessa and the Black Court will have something. And tomorrow is another day.

Now she just has to actually sleep, somehow. “Elsa?”

_“Yes, Anna?”_

“Can you tell me a story?”

There’s a small pause. _“A bedtime story? Really? You haven’t asked me for one of those since you were five.”_

“Please?”

_“You are impossible.”_ She imagines Elsa rolling her eyes. _“All right, let me think.”_ Anna snuggles into her blanket as she waits. _“Once, there was a Jewish community. They didn’t have very much, having been pushed into a small bit of the city by people who didn’t like them. There was a rabbi who saw this, and it saddened him, seeing his people so oppressed.”_

Elsa’s voice settled into a cadence as she told the story, washing over Anna in an ebb and flow. _“Wanting to make their lives easier and safer, the rabbi built a man out of clay. He wrote the Hebrew word for ‘truth’ on the forehead, bringing the golem to life. And since the golem could not speak, held no soul, it was not considered a person and so could perform duties no one could, even on the Sabbath.”_

The story is weird, not at all what Anna expected from a bedtime story, but the rise and fall of her sister’s voice start carrying her into a warm contentment. Which is exactly what she wanted. She’ll have to tease Elsa about her bizarre taste in stories later. _“This worked for a time, and everyone was happy. But eventually, the community heard rumors that those non-Jews who did not like them planned to attack them. So the rabbi took the golem and told it to protect them. And that night, not a torch or sword touched the community, and in the morning, not one of their enemies remained, all of them destroyed. The golem had done its job, if a little too well. That kind of protection was dangerous, too easily abused and uncontrollable. The people were uncomfortable with it. So the rabbi wiped the first letter from its forehead, and the golem collapsed, as the word ‘death’ now graced its head and it had no soul to hold it up.”_

Her voice is getting softer, although Anna can’t tell if that’s real or she’s just tipping faster into sleep. _“But the rabbi thought that one day the golem might be needed again, so they folded it up and hid it away. Where it still sits, waiting for someone to breathe life into it again.”_

Elsa’s voice trails off. Anna’s barely awake, but she manages to slur out one teasing “‘s a weird story.”

Her sister sounds quiet. _“I suppose so. Go to sleep, Anna.”_

So she does. She dreams of fire and a clay man, of doors and glass and a smiling man, of a child crying in the dark and remembers nothing but shadows in the morning. Instead, Anna wakes up vaguely anxious, and chalks it up to what she has to do today. In the light of day, last night was a setback, sure, but it was also a clear way forward. They have a face now, and some idea where to at least _start_ looking.

And there’s Adze. Kristoff. It’s, well, complicated. And simple, all at the same time. For the longest time, it’s been her and Elsa against the world, and it’s really, really hard to trust another person, especially with all this. But he’s...well, not simple, but clear-cut? Steady. And he cares. Not the fake-caring that Anna’s become familiar with, the attentiveness that’s second-nature and a screen for ‘what can I get out of you?’, but honest-to-god caring. It’s weird and strange and Anna’s sure she’s still falling.

She shakes her head to clear it as she pulls on clothes. Get your head in the game, Anna.

Elsa’s quiet this morning. Part of Anna hopes this is because her sister is actually, you know, _sleeping_ , but she knows better than to live in hope of that. And it’s not that Elsa’s anywhere close to being a chatterbox, but after last night, she’d have expected something. Although, maybe not. Getting personal feelings out of her is worse than pulling teeth; no way would she be willing to spill on this.

Anna sighs and rubs her forehead then double-checks her holsters. Why is her life so complicated?

Kristoff is waiting outside Doc’s by the time she jogs up, Sven at his side. The dog barks and wags his tail in greeting, then shoves his head under her hand for ear rubs. “You are so spoiled, I swear,” Kristoff says to him, smile tugging at his lips.

“He probably deserves it,” she says.

He mock-glares at the dog. “He tell you that?”

“Of course he did.”

Kristoff laughs then rubs the back of his neck. “So where are we off to?”

Anna bites her lip, fingers stilling on Sven’s furry head. “Well, like I said yesterday, we need to go to the Black Court. You ever been?.”

“Not really, no,” he says, shrugging. “I’m more of an independent. I’m a bit surprised you’re in with them.”

“Eh, sort of? Half and half.” She says, starting off. Sven trots along behind them as Kristoff walks by her side. “It’s a little complicated.”

“After last night, I doubt it’s that complicated.”

Okay, he has a point. She sighs. “It’s mostly I know the Contessa.” 

“Yeah, about that. How did _that_ one happen?”

“It’s mostly T’s fault, really. But long story short, the Contessa taught me the basics of how not to die as a blacksider, so I sometimes do jobs for her and the Court as payback.” She shrugs. “Don’t ask me how T managed that one, though.”

He shrugs again. “T is T. I’ve about stopped asking questions.”

“Good plan.”

They walk in silence for awhile, through the broken streets and dingy buildings. It might not be raining, but it’s chilly and there’s barely any sunlight to give even the illusion of warmth. Anna finds herself envying Kristoff’s black knit cap, but they’ll be indoors eventually. The walk is good, she tells herself. The streets aren’t exactly crowded, mostly people keeping their heads down or huddled in alleyways to keep warm. Dressed as they are, most people give the three of them a wide berth as they move along to wherever they’re going.

It’s hard and cold down here, far away from the glittering warmth of the upper levels. But Anna’s found it’s a little more real, down here. If nothing else, the undercity doesn’t bother to dress up its dirt and rot in pretty words and fancy glitter.

“How’s Rime?” Kristoff asks, slightly hesitant, breaking her out of her thoughts. Thoughtful of him to ask, though, and the words send a jolt of warmth down to her fingertips.

“Same as ever?”

He looks at her from the corner of his eye. “Seriously? After last night?”

Anna shrugs helplessly. “She’s...it’s hard to tell, sometimes. I mean, yeah, last night, badness all over, but...” But with Elsa, it’s sometimes really damn hard to tell.

_“I can hear you, remember.”_

Anna slaps a hand over her mouth to hold in the laughter as Kristoff jumps. Guess he did have a comm on. That’s nice he remembered. She takes pity on him. “She does that.”

“That’s something I’m gonna have to get used to, isn’t it.” It’s not really a question.

“Yep.”

“Fantastic. I can just feel my heart rate jumping all the time.”

“Along with the rest of you.” He mock-glares at her as she grins unrepentantly.

_“You’re a riot,”_ Elsa deadpans. _“And to answer your question, Adze, I’m fine. Actually, do you prefer Adze or Kristoff?”_

He blinks, then scratches his head. “Um, either’s fine. If, you know, you know both. Which you do.”

_“Anna, your speech patterns are catching.”_ And Elsa sounds way too amused.

“I hate you so much right now,” she says, even though she can’t help but grin widely. “ _Anyway_ , what are you up to now?”

_“At the moment? Checking up on Olaf. Not that he’s found anything yet.”_

“Did you expect him to?” Anna asks, curious. Olaf is a clever little bit of programming, but it’s also useful to know what Elsa’s expectations of herself are.

_“Not really, no.”_ A pause. _“I’m also trying to dig up any kind of information on Scratch and whoever Helios is working with. That arcology is going to be a problem, you know.”_

Anna makes a face. “Yeah, I know.”

_“...we’re going to need to shut it down.”_

Her shoulders tense, then slump. “Yeah, I know.”

“Wait, hold up, I’m missing something,” Kristoff says, holding up his hands. “Did you two just say we needed to stop a megacorp? And their multi-billion-dollar project? Collaborated with a guy who brings mil-spec equipment to a press conference?” He shakes his head.

“Yep,” she says, letting the syllable pop. 

“Are you crazy?”

_“Honestly? Probably, yes.”_

Anna waves her hand. Elsa’s sometimes dramatic. “The damn thing’s no good. Seriously, it’s got to go.” 

“I’m clearly not getting my memos,” he mutters. “Okay. How is this different from any other rich person project?”

She sighs and tugs on a braid. “It’s...okay, it’s a little complicated. And I mean, I know this because I know Papa designed it. So you’re not missing something obvious, okay?” She hedges. Okay, she’s going to talk in circles if she doesn’t stop herself. Ugh, this is hard. “But basically, it’s a scope thing. They make pretty speeches about how individual freedom blah blah sustainability blah, and a lot of people buy into it. But who do you think is going to have to build it? Where do you think all the stuff comes from? And then who do you think is gonna get to _live_ in it?”

Kristoff’s quiet for a moment. “Us. Us. Them.”

Anna nods. “Right, exactly. And you think they’re gonna want to do the actual work to keep themselves alive? Like, growing food and cooking and cleaning, that’s all full-time work. And look, I know the type of people. They ain’t gonna do that stuff. I mean, best case, we’d all live in there and it’d be great. But it ain’t gonna happen.”

“Which means we’re still paying for it, even with them gone.”

_“Father was an idealist. He originally designed the arcology for everyone,”_ Elsa says quietly. _“But he couldn’t make it work when I...”_ she trails off.

“He stopped trying, after you...were gone.” Anna’s voice is soft. It’s hard to think about that time. Most of it is a blur, from waking up in the hospital and then finding out. She’s mostly just got impressions, wisps of memories of the strongest things. “I think he gave up. I...I think he stopped believing in altruism when you...it was bad.”

_“Anna, I’m sorry.”_

She shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. And he didn’t really stop believing in good things, not really. Did you know you have a hospital wing named after you?”

_“Huh. He did that?”_

Anna nods once. “Both him and Mama. I’m a little surprised you don’t know. But he stopped working on this, said it was impossible, said there were too many things wrong. I thought he destroyed it. I’d _really_ like to know how that bastard got his hands on it.”

“Well, we’ve got to figure that out, don’t we?” Kristoff shrugs. “Sounds like a piece of cake, next to everything else.” Sven whines, then woofs. “Hey, that was uncalled for, buddy.”

She can’t help but laugh a little. She’s still laughing as she hops up the steps of the worn, brick warehouse and strolls inside. Anna can feel Kristoff stiffen slightly in surprise as he follows after her, clearly not expecting to end up here. She really can’t blame him; most people, when told they’re heading for a secret blacksider lair, probably don’t expect to end up at a food bank.

There’s a boy with a blue knit cap jammed on his head, black spikes falling into his eyes, sitting with his feet up on the counter. He yelps a little when he sees them, nearly falling off his chair. “Um, you totally didn’t see that. I mean, can I help you?”

She can guess Kristoff is frowning behind her as she leans against the counter. “Hey. Crazy weather we’re having, right?”

The boy’s eyes sharpen slightly, but he shrugs. “Getting colder. More people coming by, looking for help. We try to do what we can.”

“Yeah. Blessed are the meek and everything.”

He grins fiercely, teeth white against his darker skin. “Theirs is the kingdom.” The grin is gone, transformed to lazy smile. “If you need some help, second door on the right.” And then he slouches back against the chair and kicks his feet back up onto the counter.

Anna waves in thanks and saunters off down the hall. After a second, she can hear Kristoff’s heavy boots following along with the clacking of Sven’s nails. Second door on the right turns out to be a supply closet. Classy. It’s a tight fit to get all three of them in.

“Arc, what the hell?” he hisses as the door closes.

She holds up a finger. “Wait for it...” A click, and then the whole back wall slides open to reveal an elevator. “There!”

“You know, this is really only leading to more and more questions.”

Anna shoves him into the elevator. “Give me a second.” Sven trots in before the door closes. She pushes the call button. “Hey. Arc and Rime with guests are here to see the Contessa if she’s free.”

The intercom crackles to life as the elevator shutters before going down. “Copy that. We’ll send someone to pick you guys up. And welcome back.”

Kristoff is scowling against the back of the elevator when she turns to him. She really can’t blame him. The secrecy here is necessary and all, because the Black Court is twitchy as all hell, but in his position, she’d be a little pissy about being left in the dark. She scratches her head and sighs. “The Black Court are almost paranoid enough to make Rime look tame in comparison.”

_“I can **still** hear you.”_

Anna rolls her eyes. “I said ‘almost’. You still win.” She shakes her head and looks back. “Anyway, I kinda forgot to warn you. Sorry.”

His scowl melts away and his shoulders relax. “Okay, I can actually understand that. It’s fine. I just...I’m not good with being led around.”

She snorts. “Tell me about a blacksider who is.”

“Point.”

The elevator dings as it stops. “I promise, I’ll explain what I can later. Just...roll with it?” she asks, stepping backwards through the open doorway.

“I’m going to keep you to that...whoa.” He says as he steps out. Sven barks once, tail thumping against the tile in what she wants to imagine is appreciation. Kristoff looks around, and she can see him putting the pieces together. “The old subway system. They reappropriated it, didn’t they?”

“Yep. They even keep some of the trains running. Well, cars. Come on.” She waves her hand, intending him to follow. He does, but still half-paying attention the the old tunnels. Considering how long ago the subway was shuttered, officially to encourage use of the elevated trains and skyway, everything was still in really good condition. She certainly remembers crawling through the tunnels and maintenance shafts; keeping them up is pretty much a survival requirement for the Contessa’s students.

There was a rumbling down the tunnel, followed by a squeal of metal-on-metal as the small subway car came to a halt by the platform they stood on. A teenage girl with brown-and-blue hair poked her head out the driver window. “Hey. Heard you called for a lift?” The doors of the car open with a hiss. 

Sven goes bounding in first, nearly barrelling into the legs of the driver as she sprints to the steering controls on the other end of the car. Anna laughs and hops aboard. She catches Kristoff’s frown in the window as he enters before she swings through the open door between the car and driver’s compartment. “Thanks.”

The girl shrugs as she flips the switch to close the door again and starts the car up again down the tracks. “‘s what I’m here for.”

The tunnels don’t exactly offer much to look at as they hurtle down the track. Anna hasn’t been down here in awhile. At least, not for a few weeks. Months? She lets go of the overhead bar with one hand and rubs at her eyes. God, her sense of time is shot to hell. It’s only been, what, a week? Maybe a bit more? Since she got the tip from T about Prince. Seems like so much longer.

Seems like no time at all.

She puffs out a breath, letting her bangs flutter. Her reflection in the window stares back at her. She sees a girl-woman, too old and too young, pigtail-braids and dressed like a blacksider, somewhere in-between everything and nothing. She’s existed in this half-state for years, but now there’s an urgency, an itching, that thrums inside her like a guitar string pulled taught. 

Anna wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t know when she got this thinky, but she’s not sure she likes it. It’s more Elsa’s wheelhouse, not hers. Ugh, too much time to think in the small moments right now. 

The bright lights of the station cause her to squint a little as they pull in. The driver-girl glances over her shoulder. “You’ll have to check with someone, but you’re probably clear to head on in.” 

“Right. Thanks again for the lift.”

The girl shrugs and turns back. Anna gets the hint and steps back, waiting for the car door to open. Sven perks up at the hissing noise and trots over, waiting until Kristoff joins them this time before following Anna off onto the platform. The door closes behind them and the train car pulls off, but she’s really not paying attention to that anymore.

The headquarters of the Black Court is a repurposed subway station, built over the multiple levels of track that lets it act as something of a hub to the rest of the city. And people, of course, are taking advantage of that. Sure, there are people and rooms off to the sides, training or having meetings or planning jobs or just hanging out, but there are a lot of people selling goods and services on the main floor. It’s rapid-fire trade all over...and a good place to hone your pickpocketing skills. Anna had quickly learned to pay attention or stop keeping chocolates in her pockets within her first few days down here.

She dances between the crowd, weaving in and out between the people. Some people give her nods in recognition as she goes past, and she gives them a little wave in return. Normally, she’d stop to chat, to see what they might be selling, but Kristoff looks uncomfortable in the crowd and anyways, she’s got an appointment to make. Hopefully.

There’s a door, off to the side and a little out of the way. Anna makes it over there and double-checks that she still has everything she entered with. Kristoff stumbles a bit after her, Sven trotting behind, looking for all the world like he’s laughing. “Christ, warn a guy next time, will ya?” he mutters.

“Welcome to the Black Court,” she replies and gets an unimpressed look in return. “Eh, come on, it’s not that bad from here. Well, not the same kind of bad.”

“You are so reassuring.”

Anna rolls her eyes and opens the door. Another boy, this one with short blonde hair going everywhere, looks up from the computer console on the desk he’s sitting behind. He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Arc and Rime here with two guests,” she says, pointing at Kristoff and Sven, “to see the Contessa. I called ahead.”

The boy slouches in his seat. “Oh yeah. Hold on.” He checks the screen and types something. She watches, slightly amused, as his eyebrows creep up to his hairline. “Uh. Yeah, she’s waiting. Um. Sorry ma’am. You can head on up.”

Anna beams at him, which is slightly amusing since the boy looks slightly panicked now. “Great! Thanks.”

She bounds up the stairs, trying to get her game-face on. Okay, she’s...probably overreacting here. Contessa really isn’t all that scary, but the thing is, she’s going to be asking a favor. A very large favor. That’s not something to be taken lightly. Anna’s seen people brought to their knees thinking they could ask the Contessa to bend for them.

But it’s for Elsa. And Anna would beg on her knees on broken glass for Elsa.

So it’s with a deep breath that she knocks on the door at the top of the stairs.

“Come in.”

The office is well-lit and decorated in bright colors. A wall of computer monitors spans the back, and in front of them, illuminated by their glow, sits a dark-skinned woman at a large desk. Her head is bowed over some papers, pen in hand and dark hair spilling out over her headband. She looks up, green eyes glinting as she assesses Anna, and presumably her guests. “Arc. It’s been awhile. And I see you brought...visitors.” 

“Heh, yeah. I’ve been...busy. Didn’t mean for it to be so long. Oh, Contessa, meet Adze and Sven. Adze and Sven? Meet the Contessa.” 

Kristoff nods stiffly from his spot by the door, and Sven barks once. Anna glances between them and shrugs. Contessa has a small smile on her face. Hopefully, that’s a good sign.   “Pleasure to meet you,” she says before turning her attention back to Anna. “Now, I know it’s been awhile, but if I remember correctly, you’re not the type to ask for a meeting on such short notice. So,” she draws out the syllable as she put down her pen, “color me intrigued.”

“It’s a little complicated.”

Contessa folds her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Of course it is. I’d expect nothing less from you.”

_“It involves Helios.”_ Elsa’s voice crackles over the speaker of one of the machines in the corner. 

Contessa blinks. “Rime. I was wondering when you’d join us. How long?”

_“Over two, under five.”_

She hums. “I’ll have to tell Hazard. It’ll be fun to see his face to tell him someone broke his encryption on that machine. Even more amusing to tell him who.” 

Anna rolls her eyes. “You’re so mean.” She remembered the days of Contessa’s idea of training, but making would-be hackers test against Elsa is just _mean_. Funny, but mean.

Contessa’s grin is wicked. “But effective. Anyway, Rime, get your ass over to the mainframe so we can have this conversation properly like I know you want to.”

_“Thought you’d never ask.”_

“Only because at least you’re polite about being able to break anything.” She turns her attention back to Anna. “So. Helios. You have my attention.”

Anna takes a deep breath. “We’ve been...doing our own thing, recently. A lot happened really fast. Adze here,” she tilts her head in his direction, “he’s been helping us with s bunch of it. But the long and short of it is that it led us to Helios.”

_“The person who set it up really didn’t want someone to pick up that trail.”_

“Now you’ve got me curious as to what the path was.”

_“Fisk to Schwartzwald, to ZHI, to Mamitu, to Iwakura to Helios,”_ Elsa says, matter-of-fact. Everyone else in the room, even Anna, blinks at that.

Contessa says what they’re probably all thinking. “That’s an exceedingly convoluted trail, yes. What in the world do a shipping house, _a black-market group_ , a manufacturing company, _an agricultural start-up_ , and a financial firm have to do with an energy megacorp?”

“Well, Fisk is a shell company.” 

“Really now.” The older woman raises a dark eyebrow. “Well, that’s good to know. But still doesn’t exactly answer the question.”

Anna sighs. “We’re not quite sure yet how they all fit together, well, I’m not, but we know what it’s all related to.”

“Helios is building an arcology,” Kristoff rumbles from his corner, finally joining the conversation. 

Contessa’s attention zeroes in on him. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “We were there when they announced it last night. Some private party at the art museum.” And Anna is super-grateful to him, right now, for taking the reigns on this part of the conversation. Because she can’t trust her voice right now not to betray the anger she feels whenever she thinks about her father’s work. And Contessa knows her, and although blacksider code says not to pry into the personal, this treads too close to the surface for anyone to easily ignore. At least, with Kristoff saying it, his gruffness can’t be taken as personal. 

She thinks.

Anna’s broken from her thoughts by the sound of Contessa’s chair clattering to the floor. The older woman looks pissed, hands clenched into fists and the purple sash she wears around her waist trailing behind her like an angry flag as she paces behind the desk. “Dammit,” she hisses. “That’s going to...”

“Fuck us all over?” Kristoff drawls.

“In a word, yes.” She closes her eyes and then opens them to look at the wall of monitors. “We’ve got people down here barely hanging on as it is. With the money moving out, and fuck knows about the _waste_ , unless Helios dreamed up some new kind of energy when no one was paying attention...” 

Anna shakes her head. “Not that I know about.” 

Contessa drums her fingers on one of the consoles. “Not even their new thermoelectric batteries could be scaled up for that, we’d have heard something.” She shakes her head. “That means traditional, which means they’re going to be screwing us over.” She rubs her eyes. “Rime, please tell me you know something.” 

_“Nothing you want to hear.”_ Elsa’s voice is dry. Anna rolls her eyes. 

“ _Wonderful_. So, this is a fantastic bit of news. Ugh, the Court’s job just got harder,” she mutters. “Okay. Thanks for this.” Anna must not have hidden her skeptical look as well as she thought. “No, seriously. At least we can start planning. But that’s not entirely why you came here, is it, Arc?” 

And this is why she wanted to be awake. “No, it’s not. We...have a name.” Contessa makes a continue motion. “Helios isn’t working alone, we know that much. They’ve got a partner, of some sort, but, well, he doesn’t exist.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t exist?”

_“Not a trace of him beneath the big things. Ask me what university he wrote newspaper stories for, absolutely. Ask me how he pays for his morning coffee, and I have no idea.”_

“Maybe he drinks tea.”

Elsa makes a noise that’s almost a growl.

Contessa waves her hands. “I’m teasing,” she says, then looks serious. “That’s actually worrisome, if _you_ can’t find anything.”

“Especially when he was apparently equipping his security with mil-spec,” Kristoff adds in.

The older woman’s eyebrows creep upward. “Definitely worrisome. Okay, so you’ve got a ghost with connections working on something that can screw us all over. And you think he’s the pivot?”

Anna nods. “Yeah. He gave his name as ‘Benjamin Scratch’. We’re hoping the Black Court could ID this guy the old-fashioned way.” 

“Legwork and by-eye?” Contessa frowns, looking thoughtful. “I can put out his description,” she says slowly, “but it’s not going to be easy.”

“Nothing ever is.”

“See, you learned something from me.” 

“And I still have the scars to prove it.” Well, to be fair, the lessons were scarily effective, Anna concedes. Not that she’s going to admit it out loud. And not that she’d actually give the Contessa the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Details.” She pushes herself off from the console. “Say you find this guy, track him down. What’s your plan, Arc?” 

And say what you will about the Contessa, about the Black Court, but at moments like this, Anna understands completely why someone like T sent a kid to her all those years ago. Because the Contessa _cares_ , almost painfully so. It’s a different sort of caring than Kristoff’s, but it’s caring nonetheless. There’s worry in the other woman’s eyes, and Anna knows it’s for her, for Elsa, and even maybe for Kristoff and Sven. The picture they painted isn’t pretty. It’s downright dangerous and nasty and farther-reaching than Anna ever thought it would be when she started this run.

But she can’t stop now. Even as the stakes seem to get higher. Because, really, for Anna, the stakes have always been as high as they could go. It’s just hard, at times like this, that she can’t just tell people what those stakes are. It’s one thing to trust Kristoff, when he’s willing to stick his neck out there right there with her. It’s still another thing to trust someone else. And maybe it makes her a bad person, to trust the man she just met and not her sort-of mentor. But the Contessa’s loyalty has to be to the Black Court, and although Anna might sorta-kinda be a member, it’s still not enough to bank Elsa’s _life_ on it.

But she can give her this. 

“If we can find him, figure out who he is and who he’s working for,” Anna says slowly, carefully, “we might be able to use that. It might be a weak point.”

Contessa’s eyes narrow. Anna tries to keep her face blank. It’s not really a lie. “Between them and Helios?”

“Something like that.” Anna shrugs. “Or in the chain. Can’t make a good plan without all the information.” 

The woman presses her lips together in a hard line. “Mn, I taught you too well if you use my own lines against me.” She points her finger directly at Anna’s chest. “Okay. I’ll do what I can. _But_ only on the condition that, when you can, you tell me what’s _really_ going on.”

Which will be when Elsa’s _safe_. She can agree to that.

“Deal.”


	11. protocol_02.03: backhaul

There really isn’t much to discuss with the Contessa after that, other than extracting a promise that she’ll keep in touch with Elsa and let them know the minute she hears anything useful. Honestly, they can’t get much more than that, and although it’s always fun to shoot the shit with her sort-of mentor and get all the hilarious stories of baby blacksiders, Anna can see Kristoff’s getting a little twitchy and decides not to torture him too much.

"All right, you four, some of us have actual work to do." Apparently, the Contessa can see it too, or just feels like getting them out of her hair.

“Second you hear?”

“Second I hear, Arc.” She waves her hand as she settles down behind the desk again. “I promise. Now get on out of here.”

Kristoff and Sven are already out the door and waiting for her when she leaves the office. He gives her a look, raised eyebrow and all. “Yeah, yeah, I’m being paranoid,” she grumbles. “So sue me. Look who my role models are.”

_“Oh good, you’re learning.”_

"I'm ignoring you right now," she says as she skips down the stairs. After a second, the boys follow. "I hope you don't mind, but while we're here, I'd kinda like to check the market."

"Just don't expect me to do the talking," he grumbles. Okay, Anna guesses he doesn't like shopping. Good to know.

She shrugs. "Won't take that long. I just want to check if an order I made came in.” She only made it a few days ago, while they were waiting on Iwakura to pan out, but her contact’s known to work fast, and hey, she’s here anyway.

“Well then. Lead on, Macduff.”

The boy at the desk tries to not stare at them as they leave, but Anna totally catches him sneaking glances. She remembers being where he is. She tries not to saunter out of there, if only because she just knows she’ll be able to _feel_ Kristoff’s eyeroll on the back of her neck.

The main floor isn’t any less busy since before their meeting. Anna bites her lip, and then grabs Kristoff’s hand when he comes up next to her, pulling him along into the crowd.

“Whoa!”

She trusts Sven will be able to keep up.

Kristoff’s bigger than her, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. She’s less likely to get crushed in this crowd with him nearby, but she can’t squeeze in through the little gaps like she normally would. It’s a weird push-and-pull, a change in her usual dance, pulling him along. Not a bad change. It’s like having an anchor, him keeping her from getting swept along and letting her stay on course.

This metaphor is getting away from her.

She sees the makeshift stall she’s been aiming at and dives through a break in the crowd with a triumphant yell. Kristoff stumbles out after her, Sven following a few seconds later.

There’s someone slow-clapping. Anna looks up to see the grinning tan face of the man she’s looking for, black hair flopping over his eyes. “I’d give that one a five,” he drawls. 

Anna sticks her tongue out at him. “Ugh, lay off, Djinn. You know it’s a madhouse.” 

Djinn pushes off from the stall. “And you’re not alone this time,” he says, eyeing Kristoff.

“What’s it to you?” Kristoff grumbles. She can feel his fingers stiffen in her hand, but he doesn’t move away.

Djinn waves his arms in front of him. “Nothing. Just making an observation.” He turns to Anna and claps his hands. “Right. Lovely as it is seeing you, I’m guessing you’re here for a reason.”

“Yeah. I wanted to know if my order came in? That stuff?”

He snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah! Hold on.” He ducks into the stall and moves some things around before popping back up with an armful of items. It takes some juggling, but he shuffles everything over to one arm so he has the other free. “Two Renraku ceramic knives, armor plates, some cold weather gear, aaand,” he says, putting the items on the counter, “a mysterious box of god only knows what.”

The last would be something Elsa made her get, a sealed and locked metal box with no markings. Yeah, she has no idea either. “Don’t look at me, it’s Rime’s. Any trouble getting this stuff?”

“Right. Rime.” Anna holds back a wince at his tone. He taps a beat on the counter. “Nah, easy, even the black box. Usual price works.”

“Cool. Got a bag?” she asks, gathering the stuff together.

He tosses one at her, and she hands him the money, stuffing everything into the duffel. “That’s why I like doing business with you, Arc. It’s so straight-forward.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Djinn laughs and bows. “Never claimed to be anything else. Don’t be a stranger.”

She waves before turning around, tugging Kristoff along. He shakes himself before quickening his pace to walk in front, his bulk cutting a straight path through the crowd back to where they came in. Oh. Well, this is easier.

They have to wait a bit by the tracks for a train car to come. Kristoff leans back, then gives her a look. “Sounds like you’ve known that guy for awhile,” he says mildly. 

Anna blinks. “Hm? Djinn?” She shrugs. “I guess. I mean, he’s been my supplier before. He’s usually pretty quick. And fair with prices.” She tugs on one of her braids, not sure why this is so very important that Kristoff understand. “I mean, he’s not out to cheat you or anything. Maybe there are quicker people or cheaper suppliers, but they’re usually assholes or take forever. So, best of both worlds? Aaand...I’m babbling.” 

The corners of his lips twitch. “Just a little.” He dodges her half-hearted punch at his shoulder. “So just a supplier? He seems...friendly.”

“Ugh, he’s always like that, I swear,” she puffs out as the train car pulls in. The same girl as before waves them on, and soon they’re hurtling down the tracks. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she mutters, picking up the conversation again. Djinn is a flirt; it’s part of his schtick. And anyways, she’s not interested. He’s got one glaring flaw that she’ll never be able to overlook.

“What do you mean by that?” Does the man have ears like his dog? Anna didn’t think he’d be able to hear her over the sound of the train, but apparently, she’s not that lucky. 

She shrugs. “It’s what he does. He may not be a cheat, but if smiling for his customers gets him business, well...yeah. He acts friendly.”

He stares at her, and it feels like he’s looking right through her, at that moment, piercing through all the layers and walls she’s built up over the years. Anna feels pinned by the stare, open in a way she hasn’t been in a very long time. It’s disconcerting. “Rime,” he says, finally. “He doesn’t believe Rime exists.”

And that would be the flaw. 

Anna closes her eyes as she breathes out. “Yeah.” It’s about 50-50 with the Black Court on if they think Elsa even exists. She supposes it comes from being so spread out, such an information network, that someone who’s physically not there is hard to believe. But Djinn is good at what he does, and he’s fair, and the worst he does is be skeptic.

It’s a sin Anna can swallow if it gets her what she needs. But it’s not something she’ll ever forget.

“Well,” Kristoff says, drawing her out of her thoughts, “that’s stupid of him.”

She opens her eyes to see him looking very serious. Sven barks once, as if agreeing with his statement. Now it’s her turn to smile, just a little. “Oh really now.”

“Hey, I believed as soon as you told me.” 

“Yeah, but you also had Doc telling you there were two of us,” she points out. 

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, while one doesn’t cross Doc lightly if they actually want their lives to be pleasant, I still believed you right away. And he’s got to have known you for longer than I have.” 

“I’ve known you for just over a week.” 

“My point exactly.” And now he looks smug. It’s oddly endearing. “So it’s stupid of him. Which makes me wonder how you fell in with such people.” 

Anna leans back against the wall of the car, crossing her arms in front of her. “I told you, it was mostly T’s fault.” 

“Sure,” he says, bracing on the wall next to her, and craning his head to look at her. “But it’s obvious to me that there’s a lot more to the Black Court than they want everyone else to think.” 

She did promise him an explanation. Looks like that time is now. “Right. How about you tell me what ‘everyone else’ thinks, and we’ll jump from there?”

He shrugs. “I basically know them by reputation. My, uh, friends and I were told pretty much not to cross them. You know, scary blacksider network. You gotta admit, they do get tangled up in some nasty stuff.”

She could. Anna knew some Black Court jobs dealt with some _really terrible people_ , people that made Prince look like a nice guy. Murder, drugs, trafficking, the Black Court did get tangled up in that stuff. Hell, she’d probably _been_ on some of the jobs Kristoff had gotten warned about. But that’s where the Court’s dirty little secret was. Or rather, the other one. “That’s true. But thing is, the Court’s getting involved in that stuff is generally to stop those assholes. I think a few months ago, a team finally pulled down a trafficking ring.”

“That was the Black Court?” He sounds surprised.

Anna nods. “Mm-hm. The general rule is to try to not take credit. Keeps the Court looking dangerous, which keeps the nasty stuff away from the rest of the operation.”

“Which is?” 

“Well, you saw where we came in. That building’s owned and operated by the Court.”

He turns to stare at her, wide-eyed. “Wait. You mean to tell me that the Black Court, the largest and scariest group of blacksiders in the undercity, run _food banks_?” 

She hums and rocks back on her heels. “And shelters. I actually usually use the entrance by one of the women’s shelters, but, uh, no offence, but you’d probably cause some problems if we tried that.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” He shakes his head. “ _Really?_ ”

_“I’m pretty sure the Contessa thinks Robin Hood is a ‘How-To’ manual.”_ Elsa chimes in.

“You said it yourself,” Anna says, doing a one-armed shrug as she grabs for the hanging strap to brace herself as the car starts slowing down. “If people think you’re associated with the Black Court, they leave you alone. So if those places ever need to, they’ve basically got the Court on speed-dial to deal with problems.” 

The train car pulls up to their stop, and they hop off as soon as the doors open. It isn’t until they’ve gone back up the elevator and headed out the doors back onto the street that Anna continues. “Of course, their involvement in the food banks and shelters is kind of not advertised, because, well, the last thing they want is for the people who _actually_ need it to be too scared to show up. Because that would be stupid.” 

“Of course.” He shakes his head. “It’s brilliant. They’ve got the old subway tunnels and buildings where all sorts of people come to all the time. No wonder they’re the largest intelligence network down here.” 

“Yeah. Most people are loose affiliates, like me. There are individual teams too, but it’s pretty decentralized. Most things of interest just get passed along to the Contessa and her crew.” 

“You’re not going to get in trouble for telling me all this, are you?” He says, frowning, eyebrows pinched tight. He jams his hands into his pockets. 

“Nah,” she says, then grins brightly. “I’m pretty sure she likes me.” 

_“Oh my god. Anna.”_

“I am still ignoring you right now!” she says cheerfully. Kristoff snorts, trying to cover his laughter, while Sven just woofs quietly and wags his tail, pushing his furry head underneath her free hand. She rubs his ears automatically.

_“You’re incorrigible.”_ Elsa deadpans. _“If you need me, your Highness, I’ll be working.”_

“How about you go to sleep?” There isn’t a response. Anna bites her lip. This is fun, right? Easy? But it was like this last time she glitched, and...it’s just paranoia, right? But still. “Elsa? Elsa!” 

_“What? I thought you were ignoring me.”  
_

Anna lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “You are _such_ an ass.”

The conversation on the rest of the walk back is lighter after that. Kristoff tells them the story of an early job he did, when Sven was barely out of puppyhood. Anna can’t help but crack up at the image of a merc falling off a bridge into the harbor because Sven knocked him over while playing “fetch” with an extremely valuable package. Whatever works. 

Whatever works. Anna didn’t realize then, but it sorta becomes the theme for the next while. She knows it’ll take Contessa time to tease out any sort of lead on Scratch, but just waiting for it is killer. She can’t even bring herself to take another job, just in case something comes in when she’d be working. So instead, she’s in this ridiculous holding pattern. 

Sanctuary’s floors have never looked so clean. 

It’s a good thing T’s put her to work, the fiend, because at least she knows Kristoff maybe-probably feels similarly. He’s been spending most of his free time at Doc’s clinic, for mostly the same reasons, he claims, when he meets her for lunch at Sanctuary every day. He’s just as tense about it, just as itching for word from Contessa. And Anna would be lying if she said that both his and T’s efforts to keep her calm and thinking straight during the two weeks weren’t welcome. Because Elsa glitching three times in that time period would have made her flip out entirely without them. 

Anna had thought that the glitches were bad before. Hell, the one right before the Iwakura job freaked her out good. But now? Every time Elsa glitches, it feels like there’s a noose around her neck, choking her. Like there’s an invisible timer somewhere, and the clock is running down. It doesn’t help that the basic information about Helios’s special press conference went public, and now everyone knows about the arcology plan. It’s a pretty hot topic of conversation in Sanctuary, mainly people worried about just how it’s going to screw them over in what ways, but when Elsa’s glitching, T has to actually send her to the _kitchen_ to chop vegetables. Which says more about T’s state of desperation to keep Anna from having a panic attack in the middle of her place than anything else, considering Anna’s kitchen talents.

She’s really not proud. 

But after two weeks, something finally drops.

_“Hey.”_

Elsa’s exhausted voice cuts through the noise of the kitchen, and Anna nearly slices off her own finger when she jumps. “Rime!” she yells, catching herself when Keys glances over to make sure all her limbs are still attached.

_“Before you ask, I’m fine.”_ Anna scowls, because Elsa just sounds thinner and thinner every time this happens, and she’s clearly very much _not_ fine. But before she can call her out on it, her sister continues. _“Listen, I got a message from the Contessa.”_

This time, Anna does drop the knife. “You mean...?”

_“Get Kristoff and Sven and your gear. We’re going to Weasel Town.”_

It isn’t actually named Weasel Town, at least, not officially. But everyone calls it that, even the people who live there. The name is unfortunately fitting. If Anna’s normal sector benefits from being unofficially run by T’s protection, Weasel Town’s are questionable under the Duke’s iron fist. It’s right between the other side of the Docks and Jeorling, which is arguably bad enough. But it’s a hive of crime and scum on it’s best days. Anna knows she was incredibly lucky to have fallen into T’s sector rather than there; she wouldn’t have lasted a night. And the only real protection she has in there is her Black Court credentials and her bulletproof vest. 

She puts more faith in the vest.

“Weasel Town? Seriously?” Kristoff asks as they hurtle down the subway tracks. It seemed like a much better idea to use the Court’s network to get there than to walk or, even dumber, take Kristoff’s car. Well, only dumber if they ever wanted to see it again. 

_“Yes, seriously. Contessa gave me the location of one of her people working at a bar down there. He said he heard about some of the Duke’s men moving Helios cargo around. And apparently not their normal stuff.”  
_

“Everyone’s talking about that these days, though.” 

_“That’s true. But Contessa’s man overheard one of them drop the name Scratch. So it’s worth checking out.”  
_

“Overheard,” Anna asks, “or plied with alcohol until they talked?” 

_“Little bit of Column A, little bit of Column B.”  
_

“Of course. What was I thinking?” She huffs and leans against the train door, letting her fingers tap a beat against the metal. She’s twitchy, she knows she is. That thrumming energy is back, and it’s worse than ever. Her entire body sings with it, like a live wire, arcing and bright. She can’t concentrate on the feeling; it’s too live, too dangerous, too easy to dance on the edge and fall off. She can’t afford to fall, not now. 

A stray thought crosses her mind, and she frowns as she grabs hold of it. “What is it with all the sketchy people and the titles? First Prince, now Duke.” Because yes, she knows she’s changing the subject, she is totally allowed at a time like this. Even if Kristoff is looking at her like she’s nuts. 

It sometimes amazes her just how smoothly Elsa can switch topics along with her. _“Must be some sort of prerequisite.”  
_

“Mn. So, does that mean when you go all supervillain, you’re going to be the Snow Queen? To fit with the rest of your theme names?”

_“...ah yes. And then what would you be? The hero who’s sworn to take me down?”  
_

“Are you kidding?” She’s almost offended. “I’m expecting to be your right-hand-woman. Come on now.” 

_“Of course you would.”  
_

“Damn straight.” 

Kristoff rolls his eyes. “All right, you megalomaniacs. Plans for supervillainy aside, do you have any more information from the Contessa, Rime?”

_“Not directly. We’re supposed to meet up with the guy, and he’ll tell us where we need to go.”_ She pauses for a second. _“Somewhat reasonable precaution, seeing as how it’s on his head if things go south. He probably wants an escape plan.”  
_

“Clever of him.” Anna blows her bangs out of her eyes. “I guess that means us. Yippee.” 

“Better hope things don’t go south,” he says dryly. 

Anna slaps her hand over her face. “Oh god, now there’s two of you. Who thought introducing you two was a good idea?”

“Probably Doc.”

“How the hell is she a doctor again? How is this healthy for me?”

_“Says the girl who jumps off buildings,”_ Elsa responds, totally unfairly because Anna always has a harness and rope, thank you. _“Anyway, he’s expecting you. Order a Lacrimosa and a Last Word. And don’t forget you’re in the middle of Weasel Town. Watch yourself. You remember what happened that one time.”  
_

How could she forget? It had been an early job, when she was nearly fresh to the gig. The intel had be mostly okay, but had been annoyingly silent on other people going after the same mark. Accidentally crossing one of the major gangs down here had been hazardous to her health, and most of that night is a blur of bullets, running, and Elsa’s frantic-but-even voice in her ear. In the end, she’d managed to get away with the package, minus an inch of hair and her jacket.

She’d really liked that jacket. She’d liked how it threw off the aim of the guy who nearly shot her even better. 

Anyway, turns out? These kind of people have long memories, if they survive long enough. The next few jobs she had to take in the sector had not gone over too well. It’s tapered off, but Anna still remembers better than they do. Which is why when they exit the tunnels to the street level, she’s walking with her hand hovering over the hilt of one of her knives. If she’s gonna have to fight, she’s gonna make them regret it. 

Kristoff seems to have a similar idea. He’s got his rifle slung on over his shoulder, ready to pull down and aim a shot in a second. His spine is straight, shoulders squared, and Anna realizes it coupled with his walk makes him look bigger, more intimidating. Something inside her relaxes, knowing without even having to ask that someone else has her back. Even Sven is alert, coiled and ready for trouble.

They probably make quite a sight. She can feel the glances of people hanging in alleyways and outside buildings as they pass over them. Not worth the trouble, it seems. Good.

Things aren’t much different in this part of the undercity, but it feels worse than what she’s used to. Just a feeling. The people look rougher, more haunted, more desperate. Buildings are cracked, crumbling, boarded up, and no one’s even taking an effort of doing anything. It’s not as bad as Jeorling, but, well, that’s damning with faint praise. Nowhere’s as bad as Jeorling.

Elsa feeds directions into their ears, letting them walk purposefully towards wherever she’s taking them. It’s easier to focus on that, her sister’s cadence taking her mind off of everything except the present. She can think about how much a shithole Weasel Town is later.

The bar Elsa leads them to is in better shape than the rest of the area. Blacksiders hanging out outside glare at them, but don’t make a move to stop them from going in. Anna takes a deep breath, opens the door, and strides inside, Kristoff and Sven right behind her.

The smell hits her first, the harsh antiseptic and bleach smell nearly burning her nose. Poor Sven is too well-trained to even whine, although it has to be worse for him. The bar is brightly lit, light shining off of polished chrome. Right. Easier to clean up, less likely to be damaged in crossfire. It’s _that_ kind of place.

There’s only one person behind the bar, despite the number of people sitting around at it or in booths. The light shines off his blonde hair and the buttons on his tuxedo vest. Hopefully, this is their guy, or this might get awkward.

Anna ambles up to the bar and catches the guys attention. “What’ll it be, ma’am?” he asks politely. Probably too smart to be anything else, even if she’d eat her shoe if half the people in this bar deserve it.

She hears Kristoff’s sharp intake of breath, but focuses on the bartender, trying to stretch an easy smile on her face. “A Lacrimosa for him and a Last Word for me.”

The bartender’s eyes sharpen. “Absolutely. Coming right — you!” he startles, staring at Kristoff. “K— what are you doing here?”

“It’s Adze, and I could ask you the same thing,” Kristoff rumbles. “I haven’t seen you since you broke up with her.”

The other man puts his hands up. “Hey, that was amicable. It didn’t work out, and we split.” He looks at Anna. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend here?”

He scowls. “This is Arc. Arc, this is...what the hell are you calling yourself these days?”

“My name,” he drawls. “I’m John.”

Anna raises an eyebrow. Not a blacksider, then. “Pleasure. What the hell is going on?”

Kristoff continues to glare at John. “We know each other.”

“I think she’s probably figured that one out.” John sighs. “I used to date his sister.”

“Foster sister.”

“Semantics,” he says, waving his hand. “Don’t tell me she’s not basically your little sister in every way that actually matters.” 

_“I get the feeling these two are going to go at it for awhile if you don’t do something.”_ Elsa’s being dry again. Although Anna does have to agree.

“Anyway, as entertaining as all this is, we did order,” she points out.

John blinks, then straightens up, pushing blonde hair out of his eyes. “Right.” He looks quickly around the bar. “Look, I’m about to go off-shift soon. How about I make your drinks and then this guy and I can catch up?”

Well, they want to talk to him anyway. If this not-really-a-cover is the cover he’s going to use, well, she’s seen worse. “Sure,” she says, shrugging. John nods and goes over to mix the drinks neither of them are actually going to drink. She turns to Kristoff. “Foster sister?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Grew up in a group home. He does have a point; they’re all basically my siblings.” He scowls at the bartop. “He was her first boyfriend.”

Well then, that explains things. Maybe. Anna briefly wonders if she’d understand this apparent maze of sibling overprotectiveness about dating if Elsa had been there growing up, but she clamps down on that fast. No sense in dreaming about it, not right now. And she’ll get to do it later, right? Along with all the other things they missed out doing over the years.

Her heart hurts. Later. She’ll think about it later. Not when they’re right in the middle of the Duke’s territory, surrounded by people with itchy trigger fingers.

Something must show on her face, because Kristoff looks concerned. “Hey,” he says quietly, bumping her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I’m fine. Come on, your friend’s coming back.”

He gives her a look. “‘Friend’ is probably pushing it,” he says, rolling his eyes, but drops the rest of it. John comes back with two drinks in his hands and places both down in front of them, then steps back expectantly.

Anna grabs hers and brings it to her lips, letting the liquid touch but not sipping. “Nice. So...” she says, putting the glass down and throwing money onto the bar. Amusing as it is that Kristoff actually seems to know their contact, they do have a job to do.

John looks at her and subtly shakes his head. “Not here,” he mouths. Then he grins, blue eyes shining with laughter as he swipes the cash and rings up the tab. “So how terrible has this guy here made me out to be?”

Kristoff scowls again, and she nudges him with her elbow. “Not very much, actually.”

“What are you doing here anyway, John?” Apparently, he got the message and decided to at least try to play nice. “Last I saw you, you were still in the Rittenhouse sector with the rest of us.”

John shrugs and wipes down the bar counter. “Things didn’t work out. Had to come out to this sector. I won’t lie and say it’s been great, but...” He shrugs again. “It is what it is. You’re still over in that sector?”

Kristoff nods. “Yeah.”

He looks at his watch. “So, I’m off-shift now. How about we take this conversation elsewhere?”

It’s gotten colder outside. The sun must have gone down, even if there’s no obvious change in light down here. Everything’s in that perpetual half-twilight murkiness, which is worse than if it were actually dark somehow. Anna pulls on a pair of gloves, thin but warm, and wishes she remembered a scarf. Even though those are impractical and just begging for you to get strangled. Still, warmth. She’s just glad her cold-weather gear came in. It’s going to be a cold winter.

The blacksiders that had been hanging out outside the bar have left for something better to do. They still don’t stick around right outside. John leads them down a trail of side-streets and alleyways, and Anna knows Elsa’s tracking them like a hawk. Wherever they end up, she’s sure her sister will keep them from being overheard.

After a few minutes, they end up in an abandoned alley. John looks around one more time, then slumps, shoulders dragging downwards under some unseen weight. “Okay, I think we’re clear enough now.”

_“Closest people around I can see are at least two blocks away,”_ Elsa relays into their ears, and Anna watches Kristoff’s stance relax a smidgen once he hears her.

She’s about to open her mouth, but he beats her to it. “John. What the hell.”

“Look, I seriously had _no idea_ when I sent the Contessa the message that it’d be going to you. I had no idea you even _knew_ her.”

Kristoff crosses his arms. “I didn’t until recently.” He tilts his head towards her. “Arc’s the one who does. Me and Sven are just working with her.” 

John rubs his face. “Right. Okay, that makes more sense.” He peers at her from between his fingers. “Er, no offence.” 

She shrugs.

“How did you end up tangled in the Black Court anyway? Last I saw you, you had plans for working security. That’s what Sis said your last fight was over. And now you’re working bar in Weasel Town?” Kristoff asks. 

“It’s seriously not like I planned it that way.” He sighs. “I started working freelance, not quite blacksider level, doing a couple of security jobs. Mostly legit, even. But I got...well, I was stupid and took a job for the wrong guy. Before I knew it, I wanted out of that gig but the only thing I _could_ do is end up working bar there.” John slumps against the grimy alley wall. His lips twist into a wry smile. “Working as an informer for the Black Court at least made it palatable.”

“Speaking of, the Contessa said you had some information for us. I’m gonna guess you’ve got some kind of condition on it,” Anna says. Because that’s how things worked down here. Of course, she supposes, if things went completely smoothly there’s hell to pay. 

His smile turns into a wince. “Yeah. Er, sorry about that. Like I said, I had no idea it’d be you,” he nods at Kristoff, “asking. I kinda feel bad now. But I’m in a bad spot.” He exhales loudly. “So I’ll make you a deal: I lead you to the warehouse where the Duke’s goons dropped stuff off, and you get me out of Weasel Town in one piece.” 

Anna and Kristoff trade looks. It’s not a terrible idea, on the face of it. It just depends on how hard getting him out will be. If he’s telling the truth, it won’t be that bad. But...well, everyone has secrets down here, especially secrets you don’t want old acquaintances and maybe-friends knowing about. She should know; she’s been the princess of secrets for awhile now. Anyway, it’s Kristoff’s sort-of-maybe-friend, and it’s info she needs. Which, really, is a _great_ split. Ugh, why is nothing in her life easy?

They’re going to do it. It’s taken three weeks for Contessa to get them this, and something inside her _twists_ at the thought of making Elsa wait any longer than she has to. And, well, Kristoff knows the guy, and despite the gruff words and history, he clearly still maybe gives a shit about John.

Sven whines at their feet and thumps his tail once. Well then. Looks like they’re all in agreement. 

“All right, that sounds fair,” she says. “But just so we’re clear, how hard is it going to be to get you out of here ‘in one piece’?”

John shrugs. “Well,” he says, drawing out the word. Oh great. “It’s hard to say?”

“Try.” And Kristoff’s sounding less than amused.

“Look, I said whatever it is you’re looking for? It’s got the Duke men and Helios all over it. At least. Either one isn’t a problem, but together? You guys have something weird going on. And the blacksiders I overheard mentioned a third-party.” He holds up his hands placatingly. “Whatever it is, there are some very nasty people involved. And I’m ratting them out.”

Put it that way, okay this seems reasonable.

_“There might be something else,”_ Elsa murmurs into her ear. _“This sounds too convenient. Or he’s a lot more scared than he’s telling us.”_

“Can you get anything?” she asks subvocally, pretending to consider his offer.

_“Trying to. But it’ll be hard to say.”_ And Anna realizes Elsa’s sounding really tired. Shit, the glitch. 

“Rime...”

_“Not now. Focus on what you have to do here,”_ Elsa says, sharp and cold and utterly implacable. Stubborn ass. 

John’s staring at them expectantly. “So? Are we good?”

Anna nods. “Yeah. Let’s get going then. Sooner we get in, the sooner we can get you out of here.”

“Fantastic.”

She let’s him lead, half a step behind, and Sven flanking him. Kristoff brings up the rear, his hand resting on the butt of his rifle. Her own hands are hovering over the hilts of her knives, and every sense she has is on high-alert. John leads them through the twisting streets and broken alleyways of Weasel Town, staying out of the small amount of light afforded by the lampposts that actually work. She tries not to wince as she realizes they’re moving deeper and deeper into the heart of the sector. It’s going to be hell to find a different escape route if they have to, as there’s no way she wants to dump more responsibility in Elsa’s lap right now. But the farther in they go, the less Anna knows the geography.

Finally, John stops at a non-descript warehouse. Seriously, it looks like the most generic warehouse she’s ever seen. If warehouses came from warehouses, this would be an example of one. And she’s mentally rambling and oh my god, Anna, focus.

She takes a look at the lock. It’s electronic, of course, so she pulls out the electronic kit and puts it over the pad. “Rime, need you.” 

_“On it. Just one second...there.”_ The lock beeps, and the door hisses open. They all quickly get inside, Kristoff closing the door behind them. The inside of the warehouse is dark. She digs in a pocket for a chemstick and cracks it, casting everything in greenish light, which really just makes everything more creepy. The place is empty, except for a stack of crates near the back. 

“You don’t need me over there, do you?” John asks. Anna turns to him, slightly suspicious. He holds up his hands. “It’s just...plausible deniability, right? I don’t need to know what you guys are mixed up in. Honest.”

The less people know about whatever this is, the better.   Right now, she’ll trust John about as far as she can throw him, which means the further he is from Elsa, the better. Well, metaphorically speaking. “Here,” she says, cracking another chemstick. “So you’re not in the dark.” The ‘so we can see you’ is left unsaid. He takes it without complaint. So she nods at him, and the three of them leave him as they move to the back of the warehouse. 

The crates also look completely non-descript. They also have electronic locks, so once again, Anna puts Elsa’s lockpicking kit to good use. Kristoff hauls the top off one when the lock clicks open, and they peer inside.

The crate is full of...some kind of liquid. Anna pulls up a bottle and stares at it. It’s...some kind of antifreeze? That’s weird. 

They open a few more crates. Some cryo gear. Metal Anna remembers from her father’s lessons as really good for low-temperature uses. Magnets. She relays this all to Elsa subvocally.

She rocks back on her heels. This is what Helios was getting the Duke to get? _None_ of this makes any sense. She looks over at Kristoff, but he just shakes his head. No idea either.

“Rime, got any idea on this stuff?” she asks.

_“...no.”_

Anna’s head snaps up. “You hesitated.”

_“I...no, I didn’t.”  
_

“Yes, you did.” She wouldn’t have noticed normally, but Elsa’s just a tad off. She’d chalk it up to exhaustion, but that denial clinches it. “You know something. Goddammit, Rime, you don’t get to keep secrets right now.” 

Elsa is slow in answering, the seconds dragging on like years. _“Okay, okay. Fine.”_ There’s a pause, as if she’s weighing if she should _lie_ or not. _“I know what this is for.”_

And something drops like lead to the pit of Anna’s stomach. “And that would be?” she asks through suddenly dry lips. 

She imagines Elsa closing her eyes. _“It’s for me.”  
_

The words hit Anna like a brick. “What do you mean, ‘it’s for me’? How does that make any goddamn sense?” Why in god’s name would Helios or whoever the hell it actually is need a whole bunch of cold-rated materials for...her...sister... 

She’s four years old again and can’t sleep. So she crawls out of bed and pads over to her sister’s room, not caring that she’s waking her older sister up, because Elsa always knows how to fix things. She shakes the other girl awake, ignoring the sleepy mumbles and half-hearted shoves, and begs for the magic. And Elsa cracks one eye open, brilliantly blue and shining with mischief, like a secret just for them, as the sly smile Anna remembers like it was yesterday spreads across her face.

And Anna _remembers_. Remembers snow and ice, snowmen in her bedroom and sledding down the front hall as their parents laughed behind her. Remembers her sister’s hands in hers as she gently pulled her along on ice skates in the dining room.

Suddenly, she can’t pull air into her lungs. “Elsa!” she hisses, not bothering with the subvocal. “You have goddamn _ice magic_?!”

_“I thought you knew!”_

“No, I fucking didn’t!” Her jaw is clenched tight. She only just remembered. Her memory from before the accident is spotty, caught only in flashes. Apparently, the fact that Elsa is a _goddamn wizard_ was one of the things she lost. “You could have told me sooner!”

_“Okay, okay, I realized you’d forgotten. But how was I supposed to bring it up? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a human ice machine?’ Yes, **that** would have gone over well.”   
_

Anna’s teeth hurt, she’s grinding them so hard. Kristoff, it seems, is wisely staying out of this. Because she’s suddenly realized a disturbing implication from all this. The accident that Elsa was lost in, it was planned. And now Anna’s got a horrifying idea of _why_. A kid with magic powers? There’s reams of stories about how well that would go over in the real world, and it looks like her sister just proved them right. She suddenly imagines a little girl, locked away, and forced to do magic for cold and uncaring scientists. A science experiment, which explains why Elsa has computer access, if only to keep her somewhat placated, and why she sometimes has to go away and comes back sounding _wrecked_.

She can’t breathe, it hurts, but oh, there’s something _burning_ inside her. She’s angry. Because Elsa didn’t _trust her_. “You didn’t think this was even the least bit _relevant_?”

_“Yes...yes, okay, of course it’s relevant.”_ There’s a pause, and Elsa just sounds so very tired. _“But Anna, if I told you earlier, you’d have reacted exactly like this.”  
_

“Well, of course—“ she starts, before Elsa cuts her off.

_“I know you. If you’d known from the very beginning, you’d have put it all together then because I know you’re **not stupid**. And you’d have gone running off without having half the skills you have now and **gotten yourself killed**.”   
_

Anna closes her eyes tight and breathes deeply. Okay. Okay, she has a point. She _would_ have done that. Doesn’t make everything better, but...okay, it stings a little less now. Still, she should have known. Should have remembered. And Elsa should have reminded her. But what’s done is done. They’re still deep in the middle of Weasel Town, and Anna is a big enough girl to admit that _maybe_ this isn’t the best place for this conversation with her dear sister. 

“Okay. Fine. Don’t think this conversation is over, Rime. I’m just putting it on hold until we get the hell out of here.”

_“I expected nothing less.”  
_

Anna looks at Kristoff, waiting awkwardly off to the side. He’s locked the crates again while she was busy arguing. She’s still angry, but she can turn it down to a smolder right now. When they’re back in her apartment, Elsa is going to get an earful, and that’ll be that. Because Anna’s got a goddamn list of shit Elsa’s done that pisses her off, and this is just the last straw. But she can hold onto it, for a little while. She doesn’t want an audience anymore anyways. If nothing else, her sister doesn’t deserve to have this aired out in front of John.

Although she wishes Kristoff hadn’t been so damn helpful. Slamming lids down would have been nice.

Instead, she stomps back over to where John is waiting, letting the top of her anger bleed out on the floor. “Okay,” she bites out. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

John, to his credit, just blinks and nods. “Right.” 

They step out of the warehouse, and Anna locks the door behind them one more time. No sense in letting anyone know someone was here who shouldn’t have been. She turns around. The sooner they get out of here, the sooner they can lose him, and the sooner she can maybe stop being _pissed off_.

He grins. “All right. Let’s get out of here.”

Anna is about to respond when a loud crack rings out, and a hole appears right in the center of John’s forehead.


	12. protocol_02.04: traceroute

It’s pure instinct that has Anna diving for cover before she even really registers what just happened. She’s rolling in the dirt to get behind some scrap pile as she hears the crack again and a bullet hits where she was three seconds ago. 

She catches Kristoff rolling behind cover before the side of the warehouse blocks him from view. She can only assume Sven is right there with him, because she can’t see him. All she can see is John lying crumpled on the grown, blood and brain matter splattered against the ground like a grotesque halo.

_“Oh **fuck**. **Anna!** ”_ Elsa yells in her ear.

“I’m okay! Still alive.” She breathes in sharply through her nose and forces herself to look away from the corpse. Other things to worry about right now. A bullet hits the warehouse somewhere above her head, and she ducks down further on reflex. “Little help would be nice!”

" _Dammit, dammit, dammit...”_ In any other situation, Elsa swearing a blue streak would be hilarious. Right now? More than a little concerning.

“Who are these guys?” Kristoff rasps over the comms. “The Duke? Helios?”

_“Neither,”_ Elsa says, tone grim. Great. They have the _goddamn Men In Black_ shooting at them.

“That’s helpful, Rime!” She spits into the pavement. “More different help would be great.”

_“One second,”_ her sister nearly growls. _“Get ready to run.”_

“Rime?!” Kristoff yells.

An agonized scream comes from a nearby rooftop, and Anna has half a second to see a body twist unnaturally in pain when Elsa yells _“ **GO!** ”_

Anna scrambles, hands and feet scrabbling against the dirt as she jumps and runs. “Oh my god, what did you _do_?”

_“Made the battery in his nightvision goggles explode. He will no longer be a problem.”_ Elsa’s voice is flat and glacier-cold. A chill runs down Anna’s spine. Shit.

She bounces off the grimy warehouse wall, zig-zagging as she can to knock off the aim of whatever backup the other shooter has. There’s no way he’s alone. But right now, they have zero goddamn clue where they might be, so getting the hell away is the best option.

At some point, maybe she’ll feel bad about leaving John behind. But right now? No reason to make one corpse four.

_“Left!”_

Her boots skid on the wet pavement as she changes direction, tucking her head in to make a smaller target as she enters the alley. Not a second later, there’s a whoomp of air as Kristoff slides into the wall and keeps going after her. The rapid click-clacks at her side lets her know Sven is there without her having to turn her head. Good. All still here.

A bullet slams into the wall next to her, showering her with broken brick. Goddammit, _all still here_.

“Plan?” she gasps out.

“Running!” Kristoff grits out, unslinging his own rifle and bringing up to ready.

“Got that!”

_“Right!”_ Elsa’s directions nearly have her slamming into the wall as she follows them, but she manages to avoid it. She just ducks her head and sprints.

The streets become a blur, a smear of wet greys and the smell of blood and iron. Her world has narrowed down to her surroundings, and Elsa’s voice in her ear. The rifle in Kristoff’s hands barks every so often, when they can stop running for the half second it takes for him to get the shot off. Anna doesn’t know how many are chasing them.

It doesn’t really matter.

Her boots slam against the pavement, staccato as she zig-zags down narrow streets and twisted alleys. Blood is rushing in her ears, the dull roar washing away all but the crack of gunshots and Elsa. Always Elsa. Leading her home, to safety. It’s not a maze if she has a map.

She can’t die tonight.

She ducks and weaves, dodging around cars and shattered glass that reflects the light of streetlights like a thousand dying stars. A featureless man in all black with goggles steps out of a doorway, clawing at his face. The pistol in her hand bucks, and he falls away, red painting the door behind him. Anna doesn’t even remember drawing.

She keeps running. Somewhere off in the distance, an engine roars to life. 

Kristoff runs beside her, crossing over her path in a complicated pattern dance between shots at the rooftops. Stepping in and out of each other’s line of sight, never quite in the way, a spiralling comet as they race down the streets of Weasel Town. She can hear his ragged breathing, sees him twist his body into the smallest target he can. He dances to Elsa’s calls like he was born to, just like she does, both of them flying without a net.

Kristoff’s rifle barks.

A man drops down from a rooftop in front of her and raises his rifle. His eyes are unobscured. Anna can see that they’re grey and hard.

The muzzle flashes.

Anna’s knocked backwards, tumbling, tumbling down, feet sliding out from under her.

“ _Arc_!”

_“ **ANNA**!” _ Elsa _howls_.

She can’t pull in air. It hurts _so fucking much_. She’s gasping, trying to get her lungs to start working again, come on, _please_.

There’s a wordless _snarl_ in her ear that cuts off in a burst of static and the scream of an engine. She moves her head just in time to see an unmanned motorcycle slam into the guy who shot her, tossing him into a wall. She turns away before she sees his face meet the front tire, but his scream echoes down the street before it’s cut off in a wet squelch. 

But it means she can see other black figures on the rooftops twist in pain and clutch their faces before their heads burst into flame and they fall screaming. Oh. The batteries. Elsa’s upset. 

Anna breathes in. “Rime.” 

There’s no response.

She closes her eyes for a second, and breathes out. Breathes in. “Rime.”

Still nothing. Some of the black figures have stopped screaming. 

“Elsa. Elsa, I’m okay.” She gets a hand underneath herself and pushes herself up with a groan. Ow. God, her ribs are going to look a mess tomorrow. She looks down at the new hole in her jacket.

Goddamn, is she glad she picked up that new body armor from Djinn or what. Money well spent.

_“...Anna?”  
_

“Yeah. I’m fine. I listened to you. You’re always telling me to make I buy top-of-the-line protection. You’re right. I’m fine.” She’s babbling, but oh god, she thought Elsa nearly lost it. Worse than what happened with Ixion. And yet, if she ignores the mess down the street, it’s...weirdly comforting? Does that make her a terrible person? 

A hand drops down in front of her face. She looks up. Kristoff is wide-eyed and pale, but his grip is sure when she takes his hand and hauls her to her feet. Something furry brushes against her free hand, and she curls her fingers into the top of Sven’s fuzzy head. 

“You okay?” he asks lowly, glancing around at the rooftops. No one’s screaming anymore, although she can still see a number of small fires against the darkness.

“My ribs hurt like _fuck_ , but yeah. Not dead, see?” She pokes the hole in her coat. “Ow. Okay, bad plan.”

He pulls a face. “Shit. You can’t run like that, and we’re not out of the woods yet.”

For a wild moment, she thinks he’s about to suggest _carrying_ her. She’s strangely okay with this, which is not a train of thought she wants to get aboard right now, thanks brain. Damn it, Anna, _focus_.

_“Get on the motorbike.”  
_

She blinks. “Er, you mean the one that has someone’s face stuck in the front wheel?” She hazards a look at the mess and shudders. 

Kristoff frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? One, I don’t know how well she can hang on or drive, and two, Sven?”

_“I’m driving. Arc, you think you can hang on to the handles? Adze, you’d have to hang onto her and Sven.”_ Elsa’s voice brooks no argument. Anna isn’t sure if it’s scarier than the silent rage.

He’s the one who picks up the motorcycle from its side by the wall, and Anna can only see his involuntary wince when he looks at the body stuck underneath it. “Better you than me,” he says, not at all apologetic. The bike itself is big, certainly big enough for her and Kristoff. Since he didn’t even bother arguing, she guesses having Sven between them won’t be a problem. 

Getting onto the bike pulls her chest, making her wince. But leaning forward is easy, and all she has to do is hang on apparently. Ah. Autonomous cycle. It must have been the closest thing that Elsa could grab. “Were you planning ths?”

_“Before you got yourself **shot**? Yes. Get on, guys. These guys might be down, but I don’t know about backup.”_

“Or the Duke’s goons. Because that’d be just perfect,” he grumbles, but swings up behind her anyway. Sven leaps between them, and she can feel his warm doggy breath on the back of her neck. One of his arms comes up around, hesitates for a second, then slides in between her back and Sven, holding the dog close. 

_“Let’s go.”_ Elsa revs the engine, and they’re off. Any other time, Anna would be pouting that she’s not the one getting to drive, because aw, come on, it’s a motorcycle! But yeah, not right now is good. Her braids whip around, and she has to spit one out when it lands in her mouth. Apparently helmets have other uses.

The bike eats up pavement as they swerve through the streets. None of the few people they see even think about stopping them, choosing instead to get out of the way. With Elsa driving, it doesn’t take them long to reach the limits of Weasel Town, and she just blows right past it into Jeorling. Not that there’s much obvious difference right at the edge, other than more of the streetlights working. 

“Uh, Rime?” she asks, barely over the wind. “Where are we going?” 

_“Different tunnel entrance. I called in a favor. Contessa will have a car there waiting to take you directly back to Rittenhouse.”  
_

Anna grips the handles a little tighter. Sure she trusts the Contessa, but she can’t even begin to imagine just what sort of “favor” Elsa called in. What she had to call in. Not many people even have markers from the Contessa even to call in. “Rime...” 

_“Not now.”  
_

Too many secrets. The knowledge tastes bitter on her tongue. It’s not supposed to be this way. 

They ditch the bike in an alley, and Elsa leads them to the tunnel entrance, hidden behind a storefront. The Black Court kid barely looks at them, and doesn’t ask questions. Things are a little different in this sector, or the Contessa warned them off it. Either way, Anna’s a little grateful for not having to explain. Sometimes, being a cog is useful. 

By the time they get back to their home sector, Kristoff’s practically hovering. After getting them to the tunnels, Elsa’s been silent, he’s not talkative, and Sven’s, well, a dog. It’s making her antsy, just being alone with her thoughts and coming down off the adrenalin high. Her chest is throbbing now, a dull roaring pain that sits on her lungs and keeps her from breathing too deeply, keeping her from regulating it to calm her racing thoughts. She knows he means well, but it’s getting to where she just wants to yell, just wants everything to stop for ten goddamn seconds so she can make sense of everything that happened.

But it won’t and she can’t, so she lets him herd her towards familiar territory, in this odd dance where he almost moves to pick her up but then hesitates and thinks otherwise, backing off. Until she shuffle-stumbles when it starts all over. It’d probably be funny, if she didn’t hurt so much. And it’s not even a surprise when he takes them directly to Doc’s. 

“Doc!” he yells, as soon as they’re inside the clinic. 

The woman in question comes stumbling up the stairs, rubbing her eyes blearily. Her long black hair is out of it’s usual ponytail. Oh right, it’s probably like two in the morning. “Adze?” she mumbles. “Where’s the fire?”

He gestures to her with one hand, other finally landing on her shoulder to hold her steady. Oh, the room looks less wobbly now. “Arc’s been shot.”

Doc gives him an incredulous look. “Why the hell is she still standing in my waiting room then? Get her down to an exam room!” she barks, apparently fully awake.

This time, she yelps when he finally _does_ pick her up to haul her down the stairs. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Doc would kill me if I let you walk down here.” He carefully puts her down on an examination table. 

“I’m fine,” she says. 

“Yeah, no,” replies Doc, pulling on exam gloves as she walks into the room. Kristoff gets out of her way. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She glances at him over her shoulder. “You’re out of here unless you’re helping.” 

“I, uh, I’ll just, um, wait outside?” he stammers before sliding out the door and closing it behind him. 

Doc rolls her eyes. “Adze, subtlety is not your forte,” Anna catches her muttering under her breath. Louder, she says “All right, let’s have a look.”

It takes both of them to get her out of her damaged jacket. Doc nods in approval once she sees the armor and then helps her out of that and her shirt as well. She holds up the damaged armor to get a closer look. “Bullet’s still in there.”

Which is preferable to it being inside _her_. As it is, her chest is one massive bruise. Apparently she’s also lucky it only bruised her ribs, instead of breaking them. As it is, Doc slaps on some medication, bandages them up tight, gives her some painkillers, and orders her to rest for at least a week. 

“I’ll make both Rime _and_ Adze enforce that if I have to,” she warns.

Well, that’s no fair. “A week?” she absolutely does not whine.

Doc gives her an unimpressed look. “Yes Arc. A week. You got _shot_.” She yawns, and Anna feels a little guilty about dragging the older woman out of bed. “You’re lucky. And anyway, those painkillers are going to make you barely want to get out of bed.” She shrugs. “Think of it as a vacation.” 

Yeah right. 

“Rime, you get that?” Doc says, looking at the ceiling. 

_“Yeah, I got that. I’ll make sure she sticks to it.”  
_

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous _at all_. Anna rolls her eyes. Anna trusts Elsa’s methods of enforcing that about as far as she can throw her, which, considering Elsa isn’t _here_ , means it’s _really damn difficult_. “Come on, Doc. I’ll be good.” 

“I’d say I’ll believe it when I see it, but really? You’re a blacksider. All of you idiots think you’re immortal until you realize you’re not.” There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. “So humor me.” 

Anna exhales loudly and slumps. “Well, okay,” she says, sing-song.

Doc chuckles and ruffles her hair. “Imp.” Her hand drops away. “Adze!” she yells. 

The door opens, and Kristoff and Sven’s heads poke around the doorframe. “Yeah?”

“She’ll live,” Doc says dryly. It takes all of Anna’s effort not to laugh when he and Sven visibly relax. Aw. “Whatever it is you kids are doing, it needs to wait a week.” He nods seriously. Well, she really couldn’t expect him to do any less, considering he worked with Doc. The woman turns to Anna. “You going to be okay getting back, or you need an escort?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s not far.” She hops off the table and grabs her coat, putting it on carefully. The damaged armor she’ll carry. A thought strikes her. “Er, how much do I owe you?”

Doc yawns again and waves her off. “Don’t worry about it. I’d take it out of this guy’s paycheck if I have to.” 

“Hey!” 

Anna leaves the clinic chuckling at Doc’s grin and Kristoff’s indignant sputtering, painkillers in her pocket. She’s pretty proud of successfully not walking into a lightpost, considering, and makes it to her apartment without incident. Her coat gets thrown into a corner, along with the armor. A very loud part of her just wants to go to bed, but there’s something telling her that would be a bad idea at the moment. She hasn’t forgotten her anger at Elsa for hiding things, and now that she’s safe, now that adrenalin and fear aren’t talking, that anger is roaring up inside her. 

So she grits her teeth and goes over to the kitchen to make herself a hot cocoa. Might as well do something nice for herself. There’s silence from Elsa, even though Anna knows she’s paying attention. That’s fine. She’ll just make her drink, nevermind the banging and clattering she’s doing in the process.

After dropping her spoon for the third time, she slams it down on the counter. “Aren’t you going to _say_ anything?” So much for the silent treatment.

_“What do you want me to say, Anna? That I’m sorry for not telling you? Because you’re asking me to lie.”_

“No,” she says. Her hands grip the counter, knuckles aching and arms trembling. “No, Elsa, you don’t get to do that. We’re a team, goddammit. You don’t get to shut me out. I’m the one person you don’t _get to do that to_!”

_“I will if it keeps you alive.”_ Elsa’s voice is chilly and hard, a deep and frigid cold that cuts across an icy wasteland of emotion. Almost toneless, dead, and irritatingly apt, considering.

And i’s the wrong thing to say. The fire in Anna’s chest roars, anger licking hot again. “No. I refuse to accept that. You don’t think I care? That I want you out too?” Her hand cuts through the air in front of her, and the spoon goes flying. “Do you even _want_ to get out?” 

She didn’t mean to ask that. But the thing is, Anna just assumed. Right from that first night, she assumed that her sister wanted out, wanted to be with her. And she bullrushed ahead. But right now? She doesn’t know what to think. Because the person she trusts most in the world is hiding away and not telling her things. Anna’s been alive long enough down here to know that your partner not telling you things is basically a death sentence. Not having enough information gets you killed. Hell, Elsa herself’s been harping on it for the last three years. 

The answer is a long time coming. _“Not if it costs you,”_ Elsa admits, and Anna’s heart twists. _“You’re the one thing I still have left to lose.”  
_

Anna closes her eyes. “That’s not fair.” 

_“You wanted me to tell you the truth? You want me to let you in? I can’t lose you. That’s the truth you want. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. And if it came down to you or me, it’s you, without question, every single time.”  
_

The worst part is how even Elsa sounds. It’s a recitation of facts. And Anna remembers this past night, remembers her sister’s cold rage and ruthlessness when she thought Anna was hurt. She remembers Ixion, and how much it unsettled her, and honestly, how this is so much worse. It’s not that she isn’t grateful for the save. Both Ixion and the grey-eyed man would have killed her without remorse, and same with all the other men-in-black on the rooftops tonight. It’s _how_ they died that makes her unease, makes her _afraid_. 

Elsa scared her again tonight. After they’d argued, she protected her with a viciousness that’s just hard to reconcile with the same sister who’s scared of Scratch, who tells Anna bedtime stories. Elsa _scared_ her. And some part of Anna hates herself for that. 

It’s really not fair at all.

“And what about you?” she whispers past dry lips. Her throat hurts, her chest hurts, and it’s not just because of the injury. “How do you...do you think I don’t care? You’re all I have left too.”

_“Anna...that’s not true.”  
_

Why can’t she _see_? She’s not listening. And it aches, deep inside, a part of her that’s been whimpering at a closed door for the last thirteen years, ever since the memory of her sister had been put in the ground. “No...” she mutters, wiping fiercely at her eyes. Her hand comes away wet.

_“You have other — “_

“They’re not you!” 

Elsa falls silent. All Anna can hear is the sound of her own breathing, harsh and rough, echoing in the apartment. Tears fall off her chin, and she rubs a sleeve across her face. She slumps, fight gone out of her. She’s just so damn tired.

“I just want you back,” she whispers. 

Elsa says nothing as Anna give up on the cocoa and changes into her pajamas. The painkillers are making her sluggish and her limbs feel like lead. At least, she thinks it’s the painkillers. She pulls the blankets up to her chin as she curls up, legs against her chest. “I just want things back to the way they were,” she mumbles, thick with sleep and the weight of all the things said, as she closes her eyes.

_“I’m sorry.”_

The next morning is awkward. The painkillers wore off while she slept, and Anna wakes up with everything hurting. Suddenly, Doc’s orders of resting don’t sound so terrible. For the next few days, she manages soup and hot chocolate, and navigating the sudden minefield of things left unsaid between her and Elsa. Anna isn’t sure how much of that conversation was the painkillers obliterating her brain-to-mouth filter and how much was just anger and frustration. But the tentative words and hesitant silences feel so much like three years ago, when they were both trying to learn each other again. 

But things also feel a little lighter, despite all that. Like a floor scrubbed clean; it was harsh and still lingers, but it’s probably better this way. 

In any case, it’s only for a few days. By the fourth, Elsa’s back to biting sarcasm and Anna’s crawling up the walls. Even going down to Sanctuary is no help, as Doc has already gotten to T. T takes one look at Anna, makes her “sit her ass down in a chair”, and shoves food into her hands. 

_“In what universe would this plan have gone differently?”  
_

Anna doesn’t even bother to reply. Hey, at least T’s food beats cup-o-noodles any day of the week, so at least there’s that. And Kristoff shows up once he hears she’s back on her feet, which is even more nice. Totally because that means Sven is there too. Yep. She’ll blame the weird feeling in her chest on the bruises. 

But neither of them let her do anything either.

“Arc, you were _shot_.”

“It’s only a bruise!” 

“Oh my god...” Kristoff buries his face in his hands. 

Traitors, all of them.

But overall, it’s a great big mass of boring. Anna spends a lot of it at her apartment anyway, staring at the news channels. Every mention of Helios sends her heart rate spiking. The news and speculation hasn’t died down yet, and since T can’t send her off to work of the tension, Anna gets to listen to it. Overall? A lot of nothing, repeated over and over. God, the news media is useless. It’s like they’re forbidden from actually providing information of value. 

She’s flopped out on the couch, pillow thrown over her face. “Oh god, make the talking heads shut up. No one cares.” 

_“You know, you could watch something else.”  
_

Anna tries to say something, but gets a mouthful of fuzz instead. 

_“Well that was intelligible.”_ Deserts are less dry than Elsa’s voice. It’s times like this Anna wishes her sister was there if only she could _throw_ something at her. “ _Look lively, I’ve got some actual news.”_

Anna bolts upright, and the pillow goes flying. She’s pleased to absently note her chest doesn’t hurt when she does that anymore, but she’s got other things to pay attention to. “What? Did you...?”

_“Olaf found something. There’s a lab in Capekton you need to go to.”  
_

The Middle City this time? At least it isn’t Weasel Town. Probably less chance of getting shot. Again. 

Probably best not to voice that thought. “What’s the lab?” 

_“It’s...it’s an R &D lab, owned by a company called Tozai, which is actually a shell of Helios.” _There’s a pause. _“I can’t say more right now.”  
_

Anna stops, then tilts her head slightly. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

_“Can’t.”_ She imagines Elsa shaking her head. _“Look, I know it sucks, but I’m not really sure what’s there. And I don’t want to make guesses and be way off-base.”  
_

Okay, that sounds reasonable. Bad information is worse than no information.

“All right,” she says slowly, swinging her legs around and standing up. She stretches upwards, arms over her head, and rolls her neck. “Let me get my gear. Oh, and one of us should get call Kristoff,” she calls out as she walks to her bedroom. 

_“Meet at Sanctuary in fifteen?”  
_

Anna pauses as she stands in front of her closet, staring at her gear. “Actually,” she hesitates, drawing out the word, “I was thinking...could you tell him to come here?” 

There’s a long stretch of silence. _“You want,”_ Elsa finally says, _“to have the job meeting here. As in this apartment.”_

It’s not really Elsa’s fault she’s acting like Anna’s lost her mind. What she’s proposing is the kind of thing that just doesn’t happen. Her apartment in her safehouse, the sort of bolt-hole and safe haven anyone in this kind of life needs. The simple fact is most blacksiders don’t trust each other enough to invite each other over. That’s why meeting rooms like those at Sanctuary were a feature in any self-respecting blacksider bar. So, for her to suggest they have the job planning meeting here either meant she trusted Kristoff with more than her life, or that Elsa should call Doc about possible mental side-effects of the drugs.

Thing is, though, that Anna does trust Kristoff with more than her life. She already trusted him with _Elsa_ , so this...well, it seems small after that. And it makes more sense now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Anna says as she shoves some hangers aside to find a clean shirt. Oh right, she needs to replace the damaged armor plate in that vest. As she reaches for some, she realizes Elsa is probably waiting for some kind of explanation. “He already knows about all the other stuff. It’s not like I’ve got other secrets at this point.”

_“...all right, I’ll get him over here.”_ Elsa still sounds like she’s unconvinced, but Anna guesses they’ve done enough fighting, and she’s just picking her battles. Anna will take what she can get.

By the time there’s a knock on the front door, Anna’s double-checking the straps on her gear. Figures Elsa would have let him through the rest of the security, but there isn’t a damn thing she could do about the deadbolt on the door. She hops over the back of the sofa to get it, pleased by how the motion doesn’t hurt at all. A quick check in the peephole, not that she needs to but paranoia is ground-in, and she’s sliding the deadbolt back and opening the door to reveal Kristoff and Sven. He looks confused. Sven’s just wagging his tail happily with his tongue lolling out. 

She steps aside to let them in. Sven trots in without any hesitation; Kristoff still looks wary as she closes the door behind him, looking around and shuffling from foot to foot. “Um, nice place?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Er...oh! How’re you feeling?” 

Anna shrugs. “Much better,” she says, stretching again. “Doc’s really good. Thanks again.”

He nods, and then glances around again. “Yeah, she really is.” He shakes his head, shaggy blonde hair flying. “Anyway. Rime said she got a lead?” 

She hops over to the sofa again and throws herself into it. “Lab up in the Middle City, owned by Tozai. Apparently they’re doing something with Helios.” 

“Tozai, huh?” Kristoff rubs his chin as he wanders over to the sofa to sit down more sedately. He props his rifle against the armrest. “Never heard of them.” 

_“Not surprising. I had to dig pretty deeply into Helios’ databases to find this.”  
_

“Great. This sounds like fun,” he grumbles. Sven woofs. “Yeah, I know. This entire thing was my choice.” 

“Well, the good news is it’s the Middle City,” Anna points out helpfully.

“Oh wonderful, so we might just have to deal with more Men In Black and white-collar crime,” he huffs, crossing his arms. Then uncrosses them and leans forward. “All right. So what’s the plan.” 

_“Well, you’re right that there’s more white-collar crime,”_ Elsa says, _“but it’s probably irrelevant to this. Unless things are weirder than I think over there. Anyway, this might be a simple sneak-in-and-out job. Sorry to say it, but my guess is that those guys were watching John. We just got unlucky.”  
_

Anna blinks. “What makes you say that?” 

_“The sniper could have killed any one of you first when you stepped out of the warehouse. They picked him. You were...collateral.”_ Elsa says slowly. _“I’m still waiting on the scans of the bullet we dug out of your vest to come back. Contessa thinks her people can trace it.”  
_

“You’ve been busy,” Kristoff says in the ensuing silence. Which is good, because Anna has no idea what to say to that. 

_“I...yeah.”  
_

Anna claps her hands together. When in doubt, change the subject. “All right. So, plan?” 

The plan involves driving up to Capekton under the cover of darkness. Or at least as much darkness as decently-lit streetlights allow. The point is more that they’re doing this after hours, and sneaking in through the loading dock. Hopefully, the worst they’ll have to deal with is overworked engineers and scientists working late. 

_“Worst case scenario, I’ll just make their computers kernel panic for a bit,_ ” Elsa points out. 

Anna whistles. “Damn, that’s just _mean_.”

_“Desperate times, right?”  
_

She can see her breath as she waits for Elsa to get the loading dock doors open. They left the car parked a few blocks over, and walked the rest of the way, and she’s now got her gloved hands shoved into her pockets. The Middle City is cooler than the undercity, less heat trapped from the buildings above it. Up here, Anna can actually feel the mid-December wind as it blows through the wind tunnels made by the buildings. 

The light on the keypad lock blinks green. Kristoff wastes no time in pulling open the door and they all scoot in quickly. Sven shuffles in front and pads up the stairs to the building proper. 

“You got the cameras, Rime?” Kristoff asks quietly.

_“Yeah. They’re on loop right now.”_

Anna nods. “Let’s go.” 

They ghost through the hallways, following Elsa’s directions once again. Sometimes, Sven sniffs and stops, which is when Elsa decides to throttle the internet connection on whatever hapless, hardworking engineer is unlucky enough to be nearby. Surprisingly, this works, and the three of them are able to quickly move on to safer areas.

It’d be funny, if it was a different situation. Elsa 1, System administrators 0. Well, for the last few seconds. Anna lost count of the score long ago. 

The lab they finally make it to is isolated and under heavy lock. Anna pulls out her lockpicking kit to deal with the mechanical one as Elsa deals with the electrical. Both Kristoff and Sven play lookout on either side of Anna, each watching the hallway. Her sister finishes first, of course, but Anna just makes a note to practice more and gets the door open not long after.

The lab itself looks like a typical science lab. The black countertops reflect the chemstick Anna cracks weirdly, throwing shadows up on the walls. Various electronic test equipment is stacked neatly over the benches, anti-static mats covering various surfaces. There are a few benches with test tubes and pipettes arrayed, ready to use. Two fridges stand against the wall near the back. One has a biohazard sticker on it; the other has a padlock. 

The sound of their breathing, the running fridges, and the clack of Sven’s nails on the tile are the only sounds. Anna bites her lip. This entire place looks weird. Like no one’s using it. 

“Rime, are you sure this is the right lab?” she asks subvocally, still looking around.

_“Yes. You should find something...”  
_

“Wait,” Anna says, spotting it. Against the back wall, there’s a glass enclosure, with gloves sticking in so someone doesn’t have to touch anything inside. Such as the clear box right in the middle of it, with some electronic parts scattered around. She walks over and sticks her hands into the black rubber gloves. They tighten automatically against her hands, vacuum sealing, but allowing her arms free range of movement inside the enclosure.

She picks up one of the electronic parts first, bringing it up to the glass. “I’ve seen this before...” she whispers.

“That’s...that’s a skiz network jack,” Kristoff mutters. Anna tilts her head slightly to see him peering over her shoulder. “A really new model, but a jack.” 

“Or...a prototype?” she hazards.

“Could be.” He shifts a bit behind her, and she can almost see him frown deeply in thought. He takes a step back, leaving her to it.

“Rime?” 

_“Sorry, in the middle of something that just came up.”_

Anna turns back to the chamber and focuses her attention on the clear box. There’s something silvery and vaguely goopy pooling in the bottom. She picks up the box, and the liquid comes alive, slithering up the walls in tree-like patterns, curling around the edges, and concentrating near the hand that still holds the jack. She quickly puts the box down, and then starts dragging the jack around the sides. The liquid follows her movements, tracing silver rivers around the inside of the clear cube.

“Nanomachines,” she breathes. 

She’s heard of the technology, of course. It was hard not to, four years ago when someone managed it. Anna remembers Mama and Papa talking about it over dinner for a week, about the implications of it. About how they could help so many people, in ways doctors and other parts of modern medicine could not. How they could be programmed to boost a compromised immune system, repair all sorts of damage, help with surgeries. And that was just scratching the surface.

Not that any of their wild dreams and speculation ever got anywhere, she thinks bitterly. Nanomachines have mostly stayed in labs and maybe small useless things of the stupidly, filthy rich. Sometimes they end up on the black market, or some small fabrication outfit manages to get their hands on some, possibly off the back of trucks.

“What in god’s name are they doing with nanomachines and skiz jacks?” Anna whispers.

“Apparently trying to fix toxicity issues, at least if I’m reading this notebook right,” Kristoff says. She cranes her head around to see him frowning at a brown notebook. She can’t tell if the pages are actually yellow or if that’s just the light from the chemstick he’d apparently picked up. He snaps it shut.

Anna figures out how to pull her hands out of the rubber gloves and pulls at her hair. “This isn’t making sense. Rime, what are we looking for?” 

It isn’t Elsa who answers first. It’s Sven, who’s whining and pawing at a filing cabinet shoved in between the padlocked fridge and the back wall. Anna and Kristoff exchange looks.

“Sven?” he asks. 

Sven turns his head to look at them, then whines again and turns back to paw again at the cabinet. Kristoff shrugs and walks over, Anna half a step behind him. He pulls open the drawer, and she’s hit with the smell of old paper. She frowns, and then pages through some of the files. There’s a lot of shipping manifests, some over ten years old. 

Quickly flipping through them, Anna notes that the signature on the point of origin is the same on a bunch of them from that long ago, before that signature disappears. Unfortunately, it’s a messy scrawl. “Dammit, all I can read are two initials: N and P. This is so useless.” 

_“Did you say N.P.?”_ Elsa asks sharply.

“Yes? Why?” 

_“Because I got a call from the Contessa five minutes ago. That’s why I was busy. She got a trace on Scratch. Someone who recognized him under a different name: Nicholas Pike.”_

The papers fall from Anna’s suddenly numb fingers. “That means...” she whispers. They have a name, confirmed to be linked to everything. They know who ‘Benjamin Scratch’ really is. Or at least, the man who left a trail.

_“I know what to look for.”_ Elsa’s voice is hard again. _“Get out of there now, we’re done here.”  
_

Kristoff snaps a photo of the top manifest before shoving the pile back into the cabinet. Anna looks up at him curiously. “Just in case the address still exists, Rime,” he says.

_“Thanks. Now get moving. You should be clear for the next five.”  
_

They are, walking quickly through the hallways and stairwells back to the loading dock. Whatever Elsa did to the researchers’ computers is still tying them up, and the three of them slip on out with no one the wiser.

Anna’s knows she’s practically vibrating with energy on the way back to the undercity. They’re getting closer, she can taste it. Elsa hasn’t failed to find someone once she has a trail this solid yet.

She just has to wait a little bit longer.


	13. protocol_02.05: bastion host

Anna will never claim to be particularly _good_ at patience. Not as a kid, not as a teenager, and the last three years hadn’t really changed that. And right now, with the stakes being so damn high, it’s even harder. But the thing is, the stakes _are_ really damn high, and now of all times she has to take a breath and wait. It’s all she can do.

Even if it means every gun and knife in her apartment has been cleaned at least twice and every piece of armor and gear triple-checked in the last day. Hey, it keeps her hands busy. And it means that as soon as she gets news, she’s ready to go.

But waiting also gives her time to think. And Anna realizes there she still has questions.

“So, I was thinking...” she starts as she’s cleaning a pistol.

_“Oh that’s always dangerous,”_ Elsa says dryly.

“You are the worst,” she says, matter of fact. “ _Anyway_. I was thinking, and I realized I don’t remember why I didn’t remember you had magic ice zappy powers.”

_“‘Magic ice zappy powers?’ Really?”_

“Will you focus?” She really wishes she could throw a pillow at her. “It’s just, that seems like a pretty big thing for me to, you know, not remember. And I know you weren’t there, maybe, and it might be bad of me to ask, but, well, do you know why my memory there is like swiss cheese?”

The silence is heavy, before Elsa finally breaks it. _“I hit you in the head.”  
_

That’s not the answer she was expecting. She puts the disassembled gun and rag down on the table. “Wait, what?”

It feels like an admission, a confession. _“During the crash. I...I think I hit you in the head. You weren’t **moving** , and I couldn’t move, and there was nothing else I could **do**. I wanted to get you out of that car. So used the ice to, well, push you out. Because I couldn’t.”_

Anna’s mouth feels dry, and she swallows a few times before she can get the words lodged in her throat unstuck. She doesn’t know if she wants this answer. But she asks the question anyway. “Why? Why did you, why did you have to get me out? Why couldn’t you?”

_“I told you. There was fire.”_ Her stomach drops. _“You weren’t moving, and the fire was spreading. And I was...I was stuck. So, I used the ice.”_

“And you think the ice did something? To my memory?” 

_“I don’t actually know. I’m sorry, I never asked you about that time.”_

“It’s hard to remember. I woke up in the hospital. Mama and Papa were there and, well, you weren’t.” Anna chews her lip. “Apparently, my memory was really bad for a while after that. I couldn’t even remember my favorite movie. I had to work with a specialist until I was like 8.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

She shrugs. “Don’t you dare. You saved my life, Elsa. Swiss-cheese memory for before I was five seems like a small price for, you know, being able to continue breathing. How many people remember stuff from before they were five anyway?”

_“I don’t know. And it was Princess Tattercloak.”_

“What?”

_“Your favorite movie when you were five.”_

There’s some part of her that’s not surprised at all that of course Elsa somehow remembered that. Her chest feels warm and fuzzy, like a blanket wrapped around it. “Huh. Maybe I’ll watch it again someday. You know, for the plot.”

_“Right.”_ Elsa sounds exceedingly skeptical for some reason. _“Anyway, that’s my guess as to why.”_

“Sounds as good as anything.” Anna picks up the rag and gun again to finish cleaning. “On a different note, how’s the search going?”

_“Same as when you asked me twenty minutes ago. I’ve got Olaf working out of the Helios network, and I’m jumping through — wait.”  
_

Her hands freeze. “Did you...?”

_“I found it.”  
_

Anna springs up from the couch, dropping the rag again on the coffee table. “Where? Oh my god, where are you?”

_“Eden.”  
_

“What? I, what is that? _Where_ is that? Goddammit, what —” 

_“Anna. Breathe,”_ Elsa says calmly. How can she be so goddamn calm? _“Let me get Kristoff over here and we’ll go over what I can get.”  
_

She wants to say no. She wants to know right now. But Elsa’s already calling him, and even though she wants to _burst_ , she’ll wait. Thankfully, for her nerves, Kristoff must damn well sprint over, he gets there so fast. “Where?” he gasps as soon as she opens the door, panting for breath. 

“That was fast,” she says, closing the door after him and Sven. Not that she’s actually complaining. “And we were apparently waiting for you. So. Any time now would be great, Elsa,” she grits out. 

_“It’s Eden. I’m in Eden.”  
_

Kristoff frowns. “I don’t know that place.”

_“I’m not surprised. It’s...well, a facility. Every reference I’ve found of them, even in blacksider circles, basically treats them like an urban legend. They’re some cross between a skunkworks and an extra-military organization.”_ Elsa sounds resigned.

“And how true is that?” Anna asks as she sits down on the couch. 

_“...fairly accurate.”  
_

“Well these just sound like _wonderful_ people,” Kristoff says as he props himself up on the couch back. Totally an understatement, considering.

Anna claps her hands once. “Okay. So. How do we do this?” 

He bends down to look at her upside-down. “You did hear the part about ‘extra-military organization’, right?”

“Yeah. So? We knew that. Doesn’t change anything.” 

“Just checking.” 

_“Believe me,”_ Elsa breaks in, _“if there was a safe way, I’d be making you do that.”  
_

Kristoff sighs and slumps a little. “There isn’t, is there?” 

_“I’m afraid not. It’s likely just going to get harder if you wait too.”  
_

There’s that invisible timer again. Anna’s fingers dig into the fabric of the couch. “And I’m not going to wait any longer than I have to. You’re coming _home_ , Elsa.” 

There’s no response to that. Not that there can be, not when it’s all coming so close. She won’t take no for an answer, not now. The couch creaks under her fingernails. Sven whines and then shoves his nose next to her hand, so Anna rubs his head instead. 

Kristoff breaks the uneasy silence. “So. How are we doing this?” he echoes. She has to smile. 

_“Right. Here,”_ Elsa says as she brings up a satellite map on the TV. It focuses on an area outside the city proper, still within the borders of the state. A spot in the mountains gets highlighted with a box. Anna frowns. No wonder blacksiders thought these were the boogeymen; they rarely had a reason to go out into the sticks.

“How the hell did you find this?,” she asks, leaning in closer. Getting out there is going to be a pain. 

_“I said they’re treated like an urban legend, not that they are one. And I had to follow shipment lines. I couldn’t even work backwards and figure it out that way.”_ Elsa sounds disgruntled, which is strangely soothing on Anna’s nerves. Things might be bad, but her sister’s annoyance at stupid network things will always be comforting. 

“Hey Rime, can you zoom out a bit?” Kristoff asks as he walks around and takes a seat on the couch. 

_“Sure.”_ Elsa does, slowly zooming out. Anna frowns at the image. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be seeing.

“Wait, stop,” he says. The image freezes. “I thought so.”

“What is it?” Anna asks. 

Kristoff points to an area in the mountains, at what looks to be a small valley a less than fifty kilometers from the box Elsa has highlighted. “There. I know this area.” He startles a little when he realizes she’s staring at him, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, there’s a ranch out here I’ve visited. My brother owns it. Foster brother.” 

“What.” 

“He raises goats,” he says by way of non-explanation. “Sort of. Anyway. Depending on how we’re going to do this, staging from there might be an option. I’d have to check.” 

_“That could be useful,”_ Elsa says slowly. _“It’s already a couple hundred kilometers from the city. I’d feel better about things if you had a place to sleep before you did this op. And did it at night.”  
_

“Great. It really shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Okay, assuming we have that, we still need to figure out how to get inside,” Anna says, tapping out a beat on the fabric. She chews her lip. “Elsa, can we get a map?” 

_“I can get you a satellite map, but it’s not hugely useful because the compound is built right into the mountains. And all I can get are very vague floorplans without alerting them to what I’m doing,”_ she says, sounding apologetic. 

Anna winces. Yeah, no. The last thing she wants is for whoever they’re rescuing Elsa from to know they’re coming. That would defeat this entire thing before it even started. “That’s fine. We’ve worked with less, before.” 

_“The stakes weren’t this bad before. Look at what you’re walking into.”  
_

A secret extra-military compound built into a mountain filled with people who were probably more than willing to shoot her dead. The compound her sister has been a prisoner in for the last thirteen years. Yeah, like she thought, the stakes haven’t been this high before. 

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll make it work.” 

There’s a long pause, and she can imagine Elsa just sighing. _“All right. Let me pull up what I’ve got so far.”  
_

It’s not that much. Like she said, it’s basically built right into the mountain. The “floorplans” are more the building shapes hollowed out and built around the rock. There are some places where the compound juts out of the mountainside, but that’s only in relatively few places. It’s almost built like a ring, only squared off and bisected with a T-shape. 

“Okay. Two questions,” Kristoff says, leaning forward. “One, do you know where you are? And two, where are our possible entrances?” 

A spot on the map starts blinking in blue. _“Here,”_ she says, voice thin. “ _I’m somewhere in here.”_ It’s on the bottom level of the bisecting section. Of course it is. _“There are...there are a few options for entrances. There’s the front”_ one of the parts jutting out of the mountain highlights in red, _“but I’d rather you not.”  
_

“Yeah, how about no?” he agrees. “What else?” 

_“Honestly, there aren’t that many. Unsurprisingly. There’s an entrance that opens onto a helipad.”_ A part of the complex opposite the front, opening out onto a large overhang, also lights up red. _“A better option, but not the best. However,”_ she says slowly, _“there’s a mostly-abandoned service entrance, right underneath the landing pad. I think they were planning on an extension there, but never got around to it.”  
_

Kristoff frowns and taps his knee. “That does seem like the best option. What’s the problem with it?” 

_“Location, mostly. Getting there....the entrance proper is on the cliff-face. It’s a decent ledge, and more of a hike than a climb to get there in the first place. But it might be tricky.”  
_

Still, it sounds like the best option. “Think that’s the one, guys,” Anna says.

If anything, Kristoff’s frown deepens, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. He doesn’t say anything, though, just nods. Strange. 

“Guys?” 

That seems to break him out of whatever it was as he shakes his head quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, we can make that work,” he says. Sven barks and wags his tail. “Sven agrees.” 

_“Okay then. I can lead you guys in, but it’s going to be trickier on the way out,_ ” Elsa cautions. _“Let me work some more on it.”  
_

Anna nods. “Right. We’ve got enough that Kristoff and I can start working on our end.” 

“It’s still early,” he says, checking the time. “I can give my brother a call. It’s gonna take us a few hours to drive out there anyways. You got your gear?” 

She gives him a look. “What do you think?” 

“Yeah, kinda figured.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll be back in twenty.” 

There’s a part of her that dislikes how little information they have. She wants this operation to be perfect, to have zero chance of failure. Because she can’t afford to fail, not right now. But at the same time, she knows she can’t wait. She doesn’t even want to wait. So they’re all going to have to take a leap of faith. 

So. Same as always, then. 

_“Anna,”_ Elsa says in the silence as Anna waits for Kristoff to come back. _“I want you to promise me something.”  
_

“What?” she asks, distractedly fiddling with a loose strap on her vest. 

_“If things look bad,”_ she says slowly, with a weight that makes Anna’s fingers still, _“if...if something goes wrong and you have the choice of getting out of there and getting me...I want, I need you to promise me that you’ll get out.”  
_

“Wait, what...Elsa!” What the hell is she _saying_? She cannot possibly be saying what it sounds like she’s saying. 

_“I need you to get out alive.”_ Except she totally is.

“Elsa!” 

_“Promise me!”_ Elsa’s voice is hard and cold, cold as the ice that Anna now remembers is a part of her. Unyielding as a glacier. But this time, this time, Anna will _not_ yield. 

“ _No!_ No, I won’t promise you that! You’re my sister. And I am not giving up on you.” Her hands hurt, and she realizes her fingernails are biting deep into the palms of her hands, knuckles white. 

_“Anna — “  
_

“I’m _not giving up on you!_ ” It comes out desperate, ragged. Not now, Elsa. Of all times, _not now_. 

_“I told you I can’t lose you. I can hold on, as long as you’re still there.”  
_

She squeezes her eyes tight, and tries to control her breathing. “Don’t you trust me?” 

_“What? Anna, of course I, why would you even **ask** that?”   
_

“Because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it right now,” she says quietly. Elsa falls silent, and it carves away at her heart. “I can’t — “ 

There’s a knock on the door. The words get stuck in Anna’s throat, and she swallows it down. If Elsa waited until Kristoff was gone to bring it up, she won’t restart it with him here. So Anna grabs her gear and opens the door. “Let’s go,” she states, marching past him. 

They’re not dealing. She knows this. This is just going to be a disagreement between them, and apparently they’re not going to deal with it until they don’t have a choice. Because they certainly don’t have the time, not right now. 

And she can see where Elsa is coming from. Scratch, these men in black, they’re scary. This isn’t some game, and it really never was. Not since that night she fled the Upper City to come down here. These are probably the people who killed their parents, and Anna knows they’ll have even less of a hard time killing her dead. She _understands_ all of this. 

But...for her sister to ask that, right now? She can’t. It’s the one thing Elsa could ever ask for that Anna just flat-out is unable to give. It hurts both ways, that her sister would ask and that she can’t give her that. But she’s come too far. Even if Anna wanted to do so, she’s not sure she has it in her to drop Elsa and save her own neck, if it came down to it. 

It’s a dark cloud, the continued, unending argument between them that hangs over the start of this. Kristoff, bless him, doesn’t say a word. He just drives. Sven pokes his head over the seat next to her face and presses his cold nose against her ear. She laughs and squawks; she can’t help it. “You’re a menace,” she says. 

Sven just looks unrepentant. 

“So, Rime,” Kristoff starts, “got anything else yet?” 

_“Not much more.”_ Elsa sounds slightly uneasy. Maybe it’s still from the argument. _“I think one major problem is going to be getting out.”  
_

Okay, that’s a big problem. “What do you mean?” Anna asks, sitting up a bit straighter from her slouch. 

_“Once you...once you get me, I’m not going to be able to lead you guys out or help like I normally do.”_ Anna catches Kristoff frowning as Elsa continues. _“I’ll probably be able to get you, us, ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.”  
_

“We’ve had tighter escapes,” she points out. 

Elsa laughs a little. _“Yeah. Yeah, you have.”  
_

Things feel a little lighter, and she and Kristoff manage to hash out the basics of a plan with input from Elsa here and there. It’s looser than she’d like, but it’s better than some other jobs she’s done. It helps a lot that, by this point, she’s starting to be able to read his style and body language, to make the on-the-fly adjustments that keep them all alive and get the job done. It’s a kind of competence born of comfort and familiarity. And it makes her feel better, more confident than anything that they’ll be able to pull this off. 

The city bleeds away into farmland and finally into the desert scrubland. There’s not many people who live outside. Most of the farms are run by robots and cyborgs, things that don’t need to eat. The only people who live outside the city are the renegades, the crazies, the loners, and the ones who truly love the land. Part of her wonders which one Kristoff’s brother is.

“So...your brother,” she starts. “What’s he like?” 

Kristoff startles a bit and tosses her a look before concentrating on the road again. “Kocoum? He’s...a guy.” 

“Thanks, that’s extremely helpful.” 

He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. We were foster kids, Mom’s first batch. He’s basically my big brother.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I dunno. He’s a little like me? It was the two of us against the world for awhile there, growing up. I guess it makes you close.” 

Makes sense, although it makes her miss the lost years with her own sister even more. It’d have been nice to know someone had her back, when she was a kid. Even though Elsa’s made up for that in spades as best she could. “Sounds like it. How’d he end up out here then?” 

“He...he never quite fit right in the city. We got into so many fights, me and him against anybody looking to take a piece out of gutter rats.” He shakes his head. “Mom must have been at her wits’ end when she sent him out to a friend out here and me to Doc’s for a summer.” 

“He found something,” she says softly. 

He nods. “Yeah. Took over the ranch when Mom’s friend no longer could. I still see him sometimes, usually when our folks get everyone together. Dad still sends kids like us out for a summer when they, well, when they need out of the city.” He frowns, looking off into the distance. “The city, it can choke something out of you, twist and turn you into something you don’t want to be. Kocoum didn’t like the person he was turning into. He’s...one of the stronger people I know.” 

“You look up to him, don’t you?” 

Kristoff shrugs. “Hey, I said he’s basically my big brother. I’m allowed.” 

Anna laughs softly. “Yeah, you are. Big sibs do that.” 

He gives her a crooked smile. “Well, that’s the entire reason we’re out here, right? Sometimes they need their annoying little siblings to pull them out of trouble.” 

“Ha! Right,” she laughs, sinking back down into the seat. 

He taps out a random beat on the steering wheel. “Say...” he starts slowly. “What’s your plan for after all this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Kristoff exhales loudly. “I mean, well...” He makes a frustrated sound. “They’ve had Rime for the last thirteen years, right? And these don’t seem like the type of people who’ll just, well, let her go if, _when_ , we get her out.”

He has a point, dammit. She chews her lip as she thinks. “We’re gonna have to keep them away from her, obviously.” 

“Well, duh,” he says, and she has to smile. Sven barks his agreement. “But, that’s not going to be easy. We know Helios is involved, and apparently the kind of people who can pull military-spec for _bodyguards_. That’s big-league stuff.” 

It is. It’s not little gangs and small companies she’s pissing off. They’re going up against one of the major megacorps, people who have a real amount of power. The kind of power that can buy a lot of things. Everyone knows the feds are dogs of the megacorps, beholden to them no matter how much they tried to deny it. Mama fought that sort of thing as much as she could, earned herself a lot of respect and also a lot of enemies. Not everyone was upset when the Arendelles died, even if they hid it well. 

But that means that hiding from Helios basically means hiding from the government as well. Something inside her spits at the thought. She’s been running and hiding from them for the last three years. Anna wants a chance to _live_. More than that, she wants a chance for Elsa to live. Wants to be able to run through the streets, go shopping, teach her how to rappel down buildings because it’s super-fun, _seriously Elsa just try it_. She wants to show her Sanctuary and meet Doc and T and Contessa face-to-face. Wants to see her sister punch Kristoff in the shoulder at a joke, ruffle Sven’s fuzzy ears. Eat triple-fudge sundaes together. 

So Kristoff’s right. It’s not going to be easy. But it’s like Papa said: most things worth doing aren’t. He probably didn’t mean something like this. Although, considering everything, maybe he did.

_“We’ll...we’ll come up with something,”_ Elsa breaks in quietly. 

Anna’s face starts to hurt, she’s smiling so widely. Because there it is. Something in her heart slotted back into place, because she asked for Elsa’s trust, and now she’s got it. She doesn’t need to come up with a solution right now. They’ll come up with something. They’re good at that, right? 

They drive for hours. The desert scrubland finally gives way to the mountains that form the border of the city-state. Kristoff takes the twists and turns of the mountain roads like he’s done so hundreds of times before. He probably has, if he’s that close to his brother. 

The valley they drive into looks different than the maps, a little. She didn’t realize most of the trees were evergreens, and she didn’t notice the few piles of scrap metal and parts near the large, low ranch house. The fenced in area is large, though. Kristoff pulls the car up in-between another car and a utility vehicle, and Anna can see at least one dirtbike propped up next to a large barn.

The air smells funny. It takes her a second to realize it’s the mountain air, cool and crisp with the hint of pine, free of the dust and smog of the city. Even the Upper City doesn’t taste and smell this clean. It’s strange, she thinks, breathing in, how someone could forget what air is like, or maybe never even know. 

There’s a rattle and a bang. Anna turns towards it, seeing the screen door of the ranch house has opened. There’s a tall man, darker skinned and broad-shouldered, hair pulled back into a neat tail, standing in the doorway. The expression on his face is unreadable; his gaze lands on her, and she feels like she’s being assessed. 

Sven jumps out of the car and barks. The man, and this must be Kristoff’s foster brother, turns and kneels down for the dog. Sven bounds over to him, tail wagging, and leaps at him, licking his face frantically. “Hey boy,” he says, voice deep, “I haven’t seen you in awhile.” 

“Sven, you are such a traitor,” Kristoff says, laughing, from behind her. 

“I can’t help it if he likes me better than you,” he says, standing up and dusting off his pants. Then he smiles slightly and Kristoff steps out from behind her to embrace him, complete with all the backslapping that she guesses all brothers do. Or something. Sven trots back over and flops at her feet with a woof. The man notices. “Kristoff, who is this?” 

“Oh, right,” he says, somewhat sheepishly as he steps back towards her. “Kocoum, this is...Arc,” he hedges. “She’s a friend. Arc, this is Kocoum, my foster brother.” 

This feels like another cliff. But this sort of thing calls for trust, so she’s going take a leap again. She holds out her hand. “Anna, actually.” 

Kocoum takes her hand in a firm grip.   There’s something faintly approving in his eyes, maybe. She can’t really tell. “I see,” he rumbles. Then to Kristoff, he says, “A...friend?” 

“I’m...helping her out with something.” 

Kocoum just gives Kristoff another unreadable look. “Right then.” 

_“This is going well,”_ Elsa mutters in her ear. Anna’s lips twitch, fighting a smile at Elsa’s droll sarcasm. 

Kocoum either doesn’t notice or just doesn’t say anything. Honestly, either is possible. But he waves them in anyway to the house. It’s. well, kind of surprisingly spacious and homey inside. The furniture looks like it’s on the well-worn and comfy side, lots of wood and leather. A couple of blankets are piled up neatly next to the couch, next to the fireplace. Various carvings and artwork hang on the walls or sit on shelves. He gestures towards the couch, and both Anna and Kristoff take a seat while he disappears further into the house. Sven trots off after him like he knows the place, which he probably does.

Kocoum comes back with three glasses of water and passes them out before taking a seat in the chair opposite them. “So. Why are you here?” 

“Straight to the point, of course.” Kristoff glances at her, then back. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’ve seen anything weird lately.” 

“Define ‘weird’.” 

Kristoff opens his mouth, but Anna beats him to it. “Spooky men-in-black types. Or black helicopter-secret-military types. That kind of weird,” she says, ignoring his skeptical look. What? Why beat around the bush? 

“Actually,” Kocoum says slowly, and Kristoff’s gaze snaps back to him, “I have. There’s something up further in the mountains.” He frowns at Kristoff’s disbelieving face. “Black helicopters are not actually that subtle.” 

“Okay, point.”

“So you’re going there?” he asks. He holds up a hand before Anna can do more than nod. “I’m not going to ask for details. I know better than to ask questions I don’t want the answers to yet.” 

“We’re just looking for a place to catch some sleep before we go out,” Kristoff says, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s all.” 

“Sure. She can take one of the guest rooms. You know where you’re at.”

“Which one?” 

Kocoum shrugs and gets up. “Take the one not currently half a workshop. And you’re taking my truck up in the mountains. The roads are non-existent this time of year, and the hunk of junk you call a car is going to get stuck 3 kilometers from here.” 

Both of them get up as well. “Thanks. Come on, Anna. I’ll show you where you can crash for a bit.” 

The room Kristoff leads her to is small, but cozy. There’s a wooden chest of drawers that looks handmade in one corner and a twin-sized bed with a handwoven blanket against the wall. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. I can totally see how he’s your brother, by the way.” Anna grins. “You’re both about the same kind of smiley.” 

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, before giving up. “I have no idea how to respond to that.” He sighs. “Get some sleep, if you can. We’re gonna need it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says and he leaves her alone, walking off further down the hall. She closes the door, drops her bag, kicks off her boots, and then flops out on the bed. 

Right. Sleep. That’s easier said than done. She’s a bundle of nerves; it feels like someone’s replaced her spine with live electricity, she’s so wired. This is really happening. Elsa’s maybe fifty kilometers away for the first time in over thirteen years. Really, how can she sleep right now?

The bedroom has a window, overlooking the valley. When she gets up to look out, she can see the mountains rising above the evergreen forest. Her sister’s somewhere up there, trapped among the rock and snow. The sun is high in the sky, but Anna knows she’s only got a few hours until dark. Right. Tomorrow’s the solstice. Longest night of the year. Really good day to choose if you have do a lot of nightwork. Lucky them. 

Suddenly, Anna gasps. The solstice! “Elsa!” she whispers furiously. 

_“Hm?”  
_

“Tomorrow’s your birthday!” 

_“...huh. I guess it is.”  
_

Did she _forget_ her birthday? Something heavy settles in Anna’s gut, but she ignores it. It doesn’t matter, not right now. Because right now, she’s going to give her sister the best birthday gift ever. She absolutely can’t fail now, not when the stars have practically aligned to make this work. “Oh man, we’re getting you out for sure.” 

_“Not if you don’t get some sleep.”_ Oh great, now it’s both of them. _“Go to bed.”  
_

“You are such a spoil-sport,” she pouts. 

_“I’m not the one sneaking into a secret mountain base in a few hours.”_ Why does Elsa always have to sound so damn reasonable?   

“How the hell am I supposed to sleep in the middle of the day?” 

_“You’ll figure it out. I suggest lying on the bed and closing your eyes.”_

“Thanks, that’s super-helpful,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, fine,” she grunts and then moves towards the door. “Let me get a drink first.” 

The bathroom and a cup of water is right down the hall, and she finds it easily. On the way back, she slows down as she hears voices coming from another room not far from the one she’s staying in. 

“You remember John, right?” Kristoff asks.

“Hard to forget him, don’t you think?” Kocoum says, sounding a little lighter than when he was talking to her. Huh.

“She was totally right to break your nose for that.” Anna narrows her eyes, thinks back, and remembers that the man’s nose did look a little crooked. Considering how big he is, she can’t help but being a little impressed by whoever it was that did that. 

“...yes, yes I know.” He sighs. “Anyway, she broke up with him years ago. What does he matter?” 

“Well, he’s dead.” Wow, Kristoff. Anna winces in sympathy. Way to be blunt about it. 

“...blacksider business, I’m guessing,” Kocoum says slowly, carefully. “Did you tell — “ 

“I told Mom.”

“I’d call you a coward, but I really don’t blame you.”

“Yeah. And...not exactly blacksider business, not really.” She appreciates the dancing around the topic that he’s doing, really she does. Anna’s still not quite ready to tell the world about Elsa, not until her sister is standing next to her, safe and sound. 

“Then...whatever you’re tangled up in now? Kristoff...” he trails off, sounding concerned. 

“I know, I know. It’s just...it’s important. Trust me.”

“All right.”

“And...look, just in case, if...could — “ What is he talking about? 

“Yes.” 

“I didn’t even ask.” Kristoff sounds surprised. 

“You’re my brother. You don’t have to.”

She hears him exhale loudly. “Yeah, thanks. I’m just going to, I’m gonna get some sleep.” 

And that would be her cue to scoot back to her room, which she does, closing the door right as Kocoum exits the other room. She stretches, letting the joints in her spine pop, before flopping back down on the bed. It’s kind of disgustingly comfortable, considering. And the blanket is warm and smells faintly of pine. 

_“...sorry,”_ Elsa says suddenly. _“I don’t mean to nag. I’m just, well, nervous.”  
_

Anna’s about to open her mouth when she stops and thinks back to the arguement they had earlier. She considers the men they’ve run into, first Scratch and his bodyguards at the museum, then the men who killed John. Who shot _her_. And she remembers the fear in Elsa’s voice from the night of the press conference, all the information since then of what she’s been hiding and trying to do. That her sister has one thing left in the world, and she now has to let her walk right into the lion’s den. 

If Elsa’s just “nervous”, she’s got stronger nerves than Anna does. 

And they’re still not dealing, but this feels like a peace offering.

Because that’s the thing. Even though she understands, Anna can’t very well stop now, not when she’s so damn close. She can’t give up, no matter what. In the next few hours, she’ll be able to see and touch the sister she’s been missing for the last thirteen years. And with Mama and Papa gone, she’s the only family she has left, the one she thought she’d lost for good. 

As she curls up under the blanket, Anna tries to picture the sister she’s been missing. She still remembers the eight-year-old, with bright blue eyes, almost-white blonde hair, and an impish grin. She remembers small hands, cool but solid, grasped securely around her even smaller ones. A sly look and ringing laughter. A shirt-sleeve clenched in her hand as she hid behind her. It’s the memory of a child, a time from long ago.

When she tries to think of Elsa as she must be now, thirteen years on, it’s hard to age up the child. The hair would be the same, maybe more wild than it used to be, tamed into a neat braid. She imagines a face somewhere between Mama’s and Papa’s, maybe with their father’s jaw and their mother’s nose. It doesn’t look right; there’s just something off about the look. Anna tries to imagine other combinations, something that’d fit her sister’s face once the baby fat went away, and it’s hard. Nothing ever quite seems _right_.

But the eyes, that brilliant shade of blue she’s never seen anywhere else, those remain the same. _That_ , she’s sure is right. 

Anna yawns, and snuggled deeper into the blanket. Belatedly, she realizes she never responded to Elsa’s apology. “‘s alright,” she yawns again, before sliding fully into sleep. 

Her dreams are confusing and terrifying. She sees the grey-eyed man, one time aiming a little higher, another at Kristoff. He chases her through a twisting maze of streets, always there every time she thinks she’s safe. She stares down the barrel of his rifle, and closes her eyes against the shot, feels the bullet scream past her. His eyes are triumphant and she turns around, to see a small blonde child splayed out on the ground, hole in her chest and blood smeared like wings behind her.

She wakes up gasping, choking on a scream. Her chest aches from jackknifing upwards.

_“Anna?”  
_

Her heart stops racing at Elsa’s voice. Just a dream. Stupid nerves. “Just a dream,” she mumbles.

_“Go back to sleep, Anna. You’re going to need it.”  
_

Anna grunts and rolls over. It feels more like a premonition, she thinks as she drifts back to an uneasy sleep. “I’ll see you soon,” she slurs, voice thick with sleep. 

_“...yeah. See you soon.”_

It’s just a dream.

 


	14. protocol_02.06: convergence

It’s dark when Elsa’s voice wakes Anna up. _“Come on. Time to go.”_

It’s also quiet. She never quite realized how much she’s used to the basic noise of the city until it’s not there. The silence seems louder than the humming street lights, rumbling cars, and just the basic sounds of _people_ at all hours of the day. But out here, up in the mountains, there’s none of that. It makes her jumpy, twitchy.

Or that could just be nerves. They’re really doing this.

She meets Kristoff and Sven in the darkened front room with her gear. “Er, should we tell your brother we’re leaving?”

He shakes his head and holds up a set of keys. “No need. Kocoum prepped the truck. You ready?”

She grins. “Born ready.” 

His lips quirk up a little. “Right then.” 

They’re pulling out in the utility vehicle within minutes. “I hope you know where we’re going,” Anna says as they pass the tree line. The ride is bumpy and rough; Kocoum wasn’t kidding when he said that Kristoff’s car would get stuck. 

_“I’ve got you,”_ Elsa says softly. 

And she does. Through winding trails and up the mountain, they make their way. Sometimes, when the trees open up, Anna can see the stars shining clearly in the inky blue-black of the night sky. There’s no cloud cover. Maybe bad luck there: they won’t need chemsticks to see, but neither will any guards, if there are any.

Kristoff’s brow is furrowed, he’s concentrating hard enough on the path. Since they’re at least _trying_ to be sneaky, he has the headlights dimmed, and although the starlight helps, it’s still driving at night nearly blind. If only the thing had an autonomous feature; then Elsa could just drive them there. 

Not much of a thrilling heroic rescue, if she could rescue herself. 

Anna checks her gear again. It’s a nervous habit, but it’s better than those stupid thoughts. Ugh, she needs to be focusing on what needs to be done, not on what she wishes she had. There’s a lot of stuff on that list.

_Focus_ , Anna. 

“How are you feeling?” She nearly jumps at the question, looking wildly at Kristoff. He spares her a quick glance before focusing again on the broken trail in front of them. 

“Fine. Good. Totally fine,” she rambles, trying to keep the high-pitched edge out of her voice. “You?” 

“Well, we’re about to rescue your sister from a secret black-ops group in the mountains far from civilization, by ourselves with no back-up.” His tone is dry. “Honestly? I’m freaking terrified.” 

She breathes out a puff of air. Okay, well, if he’s admitting it, there’s no use pretending. “Yeah,” she whispers, slumping in the seat. “So am I.” 

“Hey. Hey,” he prods, glancing back at her for a second, “none of that. I mean, I haven’t known you very long, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be the optimistic one.” 

_“Well, you’ve got her measure,”_ Elsa breaks in. 

Despite herself, Anna snorts. “The worst,” she sing-songs. 

_“You wound me, Arc. Wound.”  
_

Yeah, okay, maybe joking around at a time like this is not the best idea. Or maybe it is. She can feel her muscles and nerves relaxing, still wired, but looser now. Ready to move. She remembers one of the first lessons the Contessa taught her, when she first found herself before the woman with only Elsa’s voice in her ear and T’s recommendation at her back. That it’s okay to be scared. Being scared means you’re alive, and it means you’re thinking. Fear is a tool. Fear for your life, for your crew, for the job, that’s the sort of fear that can keep you alive. 

Only the overconfident and the idiots are really the ones who say they’re unafraid. 

But the trick is, for all of that? It’s not to let the fear rule you. It’s okay to be afraid, but it’s not okay to be consumed by it. And that being brave is cutting through all of that and doing what needs to be done anyway. To use that fear, set your nerves alight and your muscles and brain on high-alert, and make yourself sharp enough to live. To get the job done. 

Anna breathes in deep, and lets that fear settle, let’s it prick at her fingertips and coil down her spine. 

It’s time. 

Kristoff stops and kills the engine. She stretches to get the blood flowing again once she jumps out the door, leaves crunching under her boots. The plan is to make their way up to the service entrance under the helipad on foot, since the two of them are less likely to be seen than a truck crashing through the forest, even if the lights were off. Except doing that also means leaving Sven; a secret base like that is just not going to work with a dog. 

She looks up from tying her shoes to see him holding Sven’s head in his hands. “Watch Kocuom’s truck for us, okay boy? You know how he gets about scratches.” 

Sven whines a little, then licks Kristoff’s face. “Yeah, yeah. You too.” He says, patting Sven’s head one more time. She has to look away for a moment, so she looks up. There are breaks in the tree cover in this little clearing. The stars and moon are crystal-clear, and Anna thinks she can pick out the North Star. Maybe? It’s the one in the handle of one of the Dippers, right? Her sister was better at this, pointing out the few stars they could see at night from her old bedroom window, or just in books. Anna, though? Well, she’ll admit to herself that she was generally too wired to listen. Who had time to listen to all that anyway? It wasn’t like she was going to end up needing to navigate herself out of the wilderness or something. 

Fate, as it turns out, has a nasty sense of humor, she thinks. 

“Sky’s awake,” she murmers. 

_“Don’t think you’re actually playing right now,”_ Elsa says softly. 

“Nope.” She sighs and shuffles a little. 

That might have caught Kristoff’s attention because he steps away from the truck and towards her, dropping his hands to grip the butt of his rifle and its strap. “Shall we?” he says to her, eyebrow slightly raised. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The forest is no more easy to travel in the dark on foot than it was from a vehicle. Neither of them dare to crack a chemstick, not now. So they’re a little slow, picking their way up the trail. They talk in basic blacksider hand signs, just repurposed so they can warn for a tree branch or a rock or a dip in the path. It’s not perfect, but they’re starting to be able to read each other, and the little hesitations and quick movements Kristoff has are about as good as an open book for her. Easier to read in the dark, too.

So they make their way up the mountain. It’s a cold winter night. No snow yet, so there’s some luck. Anna’s glad she’s wearing gloves; her fingers would be blue by now. The soft leather doesn’t even creak when she holds up a hand and makes a fist, signaling to stop. 

The tree cover ends in a couple of feet. They’re almost right up next to the rock face, and just where Elsa said it’d be is a heavy-looking metal door. She ghosts up to it, Kristoff right behind her watching her back. It’s just a keypad lock. She could ask Elsa to do it, but, the less she messes with Eden’s network right now, the longer they’re probably going to have to get her out. So. Anna has to do this herself. Not that she can’t, Rime’s just faster at it. 

She frowns, then realizes some of the numbers are worn away. Okay, this got a lot simpler, her frown morphing into a grin. Just like all the old tests the Contessa made her do. She puts her hand over the keypad, fingers on the numbers and notes the patterns: how are they rubbed off? How would she have to move her hand? All the little signs she was taught to look for, and she figures it out. 

The light on the lock switches to green, and the door slides open with barely a hiss. She turns around to give Kristoff a thumbs-up, smirk pulling at her lips.

It’s, well, it’s definitely a service entrance. Kristoff shuts the door behind him, so they’re left with only the sound of their own breathing and the hum of the lights. The corridor is dimly lit, shadows cast by the overhead lights playing over the stone walls. It’s cool in here, buried however deep under the mountain itself. At least it’s dry.

_“Keep to the left. There’ll be a door in a couple of meters.”  
_

The door is another metal one, only lighter and unlocked this time. Anna cracks it open slowly, checks that it’s clear, and scoots out. The entire hallway is still dim and deserted, except this time it looks like someone’s been down here in the last six months. Instead of stone, it’s reinforced concrete. 

They follow Elsa’s quiet directions through the maze of corridors. At intersections, she can see where the space might open up into larger, open aired areas. She spots cars and carts, and at one point a helicopter sitting underground. Ah. That would be the lift to the landing pad. Yeah, staying away is a good plan. 

A right turn down another corridor, and it’s suddenly very clear they’re in another part of this base. It feels, well, like an older part, and it makes her wonder how long Eden’s been around. Some part of her thought that they weren’t much older than, well, thirteen years. But now that she thinks about it, they’d have had to have started long ago, if they could pull off something like this. To say nothing of kidnapping and faking the death of an Upper City child. 

Her jaw hurts, and Anna realizes she’s been grinding her teeth together. Neither Elsa nor Kirstoff says anything, even though they must have heard it through the subvocal. Nerves, all around.

“This is seriously creepy,” Kristoff mutters, into his subvocal. They’d managed to rig up a temporary one for him, at least for this. So at least they can talk now. “Where is everyone?” 

_“About one floor above you or higher. I’ve got you going through the basement labs.”_ Elsa sounds, well, tense. There’s a brittle edge to her words that Anna’s rarely, if ever, heard before. It’s not a tone she likes, not now. There’s something wrong here, well, a whole lot of stuff wrong. Kristoff’s right: this place is creepy. Anna can almost convince herself it’s just nerves making Elsa sound like that, with Anna seeing the walls she’s been kept in.

“Oh that’s comforting,” he grumbles. 

_“Better than the security station you’d otherwise be walking right past.”_

Kristoff blinks. “Yeah, okay, point.” 

_“Arc.”  
_

“Yeah?” 

_“I hope you’re paying attention. You guys are going to have to use this same route on the way back.”_ She sounds...almost apologetic. 

Anna pulls a face. “Great. Concrete all looks the same, Rime.”

_“Sorry.”_ She’s about to grumble about the apology when Elsa continues. _“I thought telling you to bring breadcrumbs was a little noticeable.”  
_

Rude. But it cuts the tension as they carefully make their way through the corridors, stepping lightly to reduce the amount their footsteps echo down the hallways. They pass by darkened labs, maybe unused, maybe just storage. She doesn’t spend much time trying to figure out what they’re doing in them. 

_“You’re coming up on a stairwell. Take it up a flight. There’ll be another set of doors on the far side when you come out. Get over there and quickly. I’ll only be able to keep the security station distracted for so long.”_

Anna goes still for half a second. “How are you — ?” 

_“Don’t worry. It’s just the security cameras. They won’t even know I’m there.”_ She sounds short. Tense. _“Not if I only do it for a few seconds.”  
_

Well, that’s something of a relief. The door is right where Elsa said it would be, across what looks for all the world to be a lobby. And, oh man, there’s glass all over the place. Anna just grits her teeth and goes, ghosting along the far wall, outside the line of sight for the two people she can see standing on an upper level, overlooking the large atrium the lobby is nestled against. She’s not looking forward to the way out; this part here is going to be problematic if whatever Elsa’s planning doesn’t work. 

But for right now, they make it to the door without trouble, and it’s just another stairwell. “Christ, this place is a maze,” Kristoff mutters into the subvocal behind her. 

_“That was the only reasonable place the sections connect. Well, unless you want to try to get past two more well-traveled sections..”_

“Yeah, no thanks. What are they doing here anyway?” 

“Looks like labs, mostly,” Anna says as they continue onwards. “Must do some sort of electronics R&D here. Maybe some other stuff.” She’s suddenly aware of his stare on the back of her neck and feels her face flush a little. “Oh come on, Rime sends me enough stuff I can notice this sort of thing.” 

He just shakes his head.

They move on deeper into the complex. The walls start to gain more piping and wires clinging to them on either side, an interwoven network of steam and power. Sometimes they clang and hiss, others there’s nothing but the sound of their footsteps against the stone. There’s a bit of a dank smell, like damp and cold stone. Somewhere deep, they can hear the groan of gears and pistons. It sounds like the mountain itself is breathing. 

Anna trails her hand against a pipe, and feels the hum underneath her gloved fingers. Her heart thuds in her chest, with hummingbird wings thrashing against the cage of her ribs. The hair on the back of her neck is prickling, some nameless thing ghosting breath across her spine and setting her nerves alight. Something draws her forward, an unidentifiable knowing that tells her that she’s close. 

Down one more staircase, deep into the mountain. 

The hall they enter is a shock, considering where they’ve been. It’s brightly-lit, lights humming above them. The chill of the previous hallway is absent. The pipes and conduits are thicker here, almost covering the walls. The breath of the mountain seems louder now, traveling through the walls and floor, settling in her bones.

She and Kristoff share a look. This is deeply weird. And this is clearly an area of the complex that’s been well-traveled before. Anna licks her lips, throat suddenly dry.

“Rime?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. 

The answer is slow, an exhaustion Anna’s never heard before threading through the words. _“...not much farther. You’re almost there. Take...take the second left.”_ What is this costing her? Come on, Elsa, just hang on a little bit longer. 

The second left leads them to a door. There’s a keycard reader and a lock. Other than that, the door is black and unmarked. “Rime?” Anna asks again. Come on, Elsa. Please open the door. 

_“...hold on.”  
_

It’s agony to wait for the little light to flash from red to green, but it only takes a few seconds. Anna’s hand grasps the handle as soon as the door clicks, and pushes it open. She doesn’t know what’ll be on the other side, but the only way to go is forward, so that’s where she’ll go. 

It’s a large room, but it’s kind of hard to tell. The pipes and wires they’ve been seeing seem to be clustering in the center of the room, weaving in and out of a large metal tube stretching from floor to ceiling, growing like a rock formation in a cave, but man-made and taking up most of the space. There’s a hum coming from it, echoing through the rock below them. Wires dangle from the ceiling, stretching like a spider-web or a net from the tower to various points around the room. Most of them seem to go to a massive computer console that takes up an entire wall. 

Anna spares it a glance, all the monitors showing lines and numbers that mean nothing to her. She bites her lip hard enough to taste blood. Every part of her is screaming that whatever it is here is deeply, _deeply_ wrong. She hears Kristoff’s breath catch in his throat as he takes a step towards the computers, but her eyes instead notice the door on the far side of the room. 

“Adze!” she hisses, grabbing his hand. “Come on!” 

He shakes himself, then looks at her, eyes wide and face pale. “Arc, what — “ But he swallows the words down as she tugs him towards the other side of the room, and he stumbles after her. 

Her hand grips the handle, and she takes a deep breath. Come on, Anna. This is what she wants. This is everything she’s been waiting for, everything she’s been dreaming of, working towards, sweating and bleeding for for the last three years. She’ll get her answers, get h _er sister_ , and it’s all going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. All she has to do is open the door. 

“Arc...” Kristoff’s voice is soft with concern, with worry. It’s sweet of him. She takes a deep breath and opens the door... 

...into a supply closet. 

She stares dumbfounded and uncomprehending at the boxes of computer cable and gloves. This is where Elsa led them. Why...there’s no other door in the room. Why is this a closet? What is — 

She’s broken out of her thoughts by Kristoff tugging her away. She lets him. 

Her goddamn brain is refusing to _work_. Nothing here makes sense. There should have been another hallway, another room. Something. Anything. Did they make a wrong turn? Pick the wrong door? That must be it. Dammit, they’re wasting time.

“Arc. Arc!” She blinks and is suddenly aware that Kristoff has his hands on her shoulders and is staring at her intently. There’s a look in his eyes that she can’t, _won’t_ , understand.

_“Fuck,”_ Elsa says, and the word is like ice down Anna’s spine, snapping her brain right back into overdrive. Okay, maybe she won’t ever give her sister shit about not swearing, because whenever she does, it is goddamn _terrifying_.

“Rime!” Kristoff whispers furiously. 

_“Scratch. It’s goddamn Scratch!”_ she says, voice tight. _“I’m going to have to...hold on.”_

No. No no no, not now. Not when they’re so damn close, so close to getting her out. This can’t be how it ends. It won’t be.

_“Arc! Adze!”_ Elsa barks. _“Hide! You’ll have fifteen!”  
_

Anna’s about to protest, but Adze moves faster. He grabs her, spins around, and falls back into the supply closet, mostly closing the door behind them. It’s a tight fit, and with both of them in here, the door can’t close all the way. She has to hold the handle to keep it from swinging open, but it means she can still see out the small crack, right at the console. 

She’s about to say something when she hears it, the soft click-clack of well-polished shoes on concrete. The words catch in her throat, sharp and jagged, and it hurts to swallow them down. 

The lights flicker off, and the mountain stops breathing, gears and pistons groaning low as they fade into silence. In the distance, she hears the slamming of metal against stone. 

Everything is still for a second, then the lights come back on, dimmer than before. “Rime,” she breathes, “what did you do?” 

There’s a buzz coming from the other door. And another. Shit. Scratch, Pike, whoever the hell he is, he must be trying to get in with a keycard. And it’s not working.

_“Arc. Anna. If you can’t get me in seven minutes, you have to run.”_ Her voice is strained, like whatever it is she’s doing is hurting her, like it’s killing her to do this. Maybe it is, this horrible echo of their argument earlier becoming horrifying reality. Anna nearly swallows her tongue. _“You have to go. **Please.** ”   
_

The lock on the door turns, and the man walks in, pulling the actual key out of the lock as he does. Scratch, she’ll think of him as Scratch for now, has a deep frown on his face as he walks towards the console. He stares at the various monitors and readouts, typing a few things out, the tap of the keys rattling something in her brain. Anna grits her teeth. 

“Rime...” she whispers, almost too still for the subvocal to pick up. It’s all she can get out. “No. What are you...”

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry...”  
_

Scratch flips open a plexiglass cover. He turns a key. 

_“I’m sorry. I’m so— “  
_

Elsa cuts out, like a switch or...like a glitch. Anna can’t breathe. Where _is_ she? They have to find her. Seven minutes. They can do this. They just need to _find her_. 

Something _howls_ , the screaming of metal as it slams against each other as the mountain roars to life again. The lights flicker once again before coming on brighter than before. A weight drops into her gut and stays there. 

Kristoff’s arms are wrapped around her, anchoring her, keeping her still. She looks up, wondering if he’s panicking as bad as she is. No, he just keeps staring forward, like he’s trying to incinerate Scratch where he stands. 

The man, for his part, simply stands there, staring at the console, his back to their closet and the metal monstrosity in the middle of the room. He taps his ear. Shit, Elsa couldn’t shut down his radio for some reason. Too dangerous? “Racket,” he says. “Cocytus broke the firewall again. Fix that.” 

_Cocytus?_ What in the world? Behind her, Kristoff stiffens, and she can hear his sharp intake of breath through his nose.

There’s a pause, and then Scratch sounds annoyed. “Yes, I know it's been years. It did it again.” He drums the fingers of his free hand against the console as he waits. “I increased the load, and I've got the generators accepting the extra power, but this can't happen again if we're moving it to the arcology. Get it done.” 

Anna feels her fingers going numb, she’s clenching her fists so tight. They’re wasting time here. Every second they’re stuck here because of this asshole yakking, the less time they have to get Elsa and get the hell out of here. There’s another pause as he waits for a response. “I don’t care what you do, just make sure it stops doing that. I’ve got a meeting with Haskell I need to leave for. It had better be under control when I get back." 

He releases the call and stares at the console. “Clever, but not clever enough.” 

Scatch taps his radio again. “Is my helicopter still accessible?” He waits, then nods. “Good. One thing is going right.” He spares the console another look. “No, Racket will have Cocytus under control. Everything remains on schedule.” 

He walks out of the room without a backwards glance, closing the door again behind him. She can hear his footsteps fading away down the hall into silence. 

But then Kristoff is practically shoving her out of the closet, _sprinting_ over to the console. His mouth is a hard line, face pale and eyes wild. There’s a frantic desperation to his actions that she notes as she stumbles after him. 

“Adze. Adze, we have to go. We have to go get Rime. We need _Rime_ ,” she’s babbling and she doesn’t give a fuck right now. 

He ignores her, one hand flying over the keyboards as he wrenches that key in the other direction.

“Adze!” 

“Arc,” he breathes. “Arc, look. What does this look like?” 

Something in his voice makes her look, really look, at the console for the first time. She sees the monitors, the information streaming across them, and something dark and horrible clicks in her mind. 

“Adze.   Is that...is there a _person_ in there?”

The look in his eyes says everything, and something inside of her breaks. They don’t have much time. But...they can’t leave, not now. He turns back to the console, and Anna is lost for a moment. All she can do is stare at the monitors, and while she isn’t trained like he is, even she can tell that some things here are just _wrong_. Too fast, too sharp.

No. They can’t leave.

Kristoff slams his hand down on the console, she’s honestly surprised it doesn’t break the keyboard. But he steps back, looking grim, eyes a thousand miles away. 

The lights flicker off again, before coming back on dimmer once more. The humming underneath her feet stops as the machines go still. There’s a hiss. Anna turns towards the metal monstrosity in the middle of the room. Part of it unlatches, cracking open. Kristoff’s already moving. 

“Arc,” he whispers, voice thick with pain and grief. “Help.” 

He doesn’t really have to ask. She’s there, and together they grip the metal cover. The cold seeps through her gloves, chilling her hands to the bone. It’s heavy, but the hydraulics scream and they manage to prop it open. 

Kristoff looks away. 

But Anna can’t. All she sees is grey, a roiling mass that shimmers in the light.   Nanomachines. These are the nanomachines. 

The machines start to thin out, and then recede, slithering up like a tree in reverse. Her breath catches in her throat. The grey-silver goo moves away, slowly revealing what’s underneath.

It’s a foot. A human foot, pale and barely more than skin and bones, but a foot none the less. 

They trapped a _person_ in here. 

With aching slowness, which isn’t actually all that long, the silver tendrils continue their journey upwards, sinking into areas on the upper legs, on the wrists, and probably the spine of the poor bastard in here. The poor woman in here, she amends as soon as the machines move away from her legs, although the rest of her is in no better shape than her foot. 

Anna can barely make out the rise and fall of her chest, unhindered as it now is by the machines. She can see the blue veins stark against pale, nearly paper-thin skin, can count the individual ribs and bones. Can see the shiny, tell-tale burn scars that never quite healed properly snaking up her legs. The woman’s hands are covered, shoved into restraints, but Anna doesn’t imagine they’re hugely effective. Considering her state, it’s _overkill_. Additional restraints span across her chest, hips, and neck. Not tight, but enough to completely restrict movement. 

She doesn’t look like she’s moved in a very long time. 

She can’t see the woman’s face. A mask of sorts covers that, metal with wires and tubes sprouting like demented chains from the sides and back. Seven glowing blue lights line either side of the mask, four on the left, three on the right. It’s eerie, well, eerier than anything else she’s seen in this entirely _fucked up_ madhouse of a secret base. It’s the mask you’d imagine someone would put on a monster, a _muzzle_. 

A crack appears in the mask, right down the center. It opens with a hiss and a cloud of fog. 

Anna’s fingers feel numb. She can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or because she’s gripping the sides of the metal chamber, the metal _coffin_ , so tightly. 

Everything in her is screaming to look away, that unknowable something pricking at the back of her brain, but something greater, something deeper tells her not to look away. That she _can’t_ look away. 

The mask opens like a flower, the sides and two center triangles folding upwards. The face underneath looks skeletal. Her cheeks are sunken in, making her cheekbones jut out sharp enough to cut. Anna can see the tendons in her neck, her mouth open slightly, slack-jawed. The woman is completely bald, letting what looks like surgery scars stand out sharply against the deathly pale skin on her skull. In fact, it doesn’t look like there’s a piece of hair on the woman, not even her eyebrows.

Nothing about this is right. 

But the eyes are the worst. 

Because Anna was wrong. The glowing lights weren’t just part of the mask; the woman’s eyes are glowing, a cold and harsh blue from her irises, only partially obscured by the half-lidded gaze she has, staring out at nothing. 

The overall look is painful. The woman barely looks human. What have these people done?

The blue glow dims slightly as Anna peers at her face. 

Anna nearly swallows her tongue as those eyes focus on her face. 

Because even without the glow, the eyes are a brilliant shade of blue Anna has only ever seen once in her life. 

A voice brushes past her ears, a soft, harsh rasp that’s as fragile as a butterfly’s wing.

“Hi.”

 

.END{protocol_02}


	15. protocol_03.00: keepalive

The voice doesn’t sound right. Out of goddamned everything, that’s the thing Anna’s brain fixates on. That the one thing she thought she knew for certain about Elsa, the only thing she had for three years, and even that wasn’t what she thought it was. _Nothing’s_ what she thought it was, she thinks as she looks at the wrecked form of her sister, and she doesn’t know what to say.

The glow in Elsa’s eyes dims further.

“‘m...sorry...Anna,” she rasps. Her eyes close.

_That_ shocks Anna into movement. “Elsa,” she whispers, hands hovering over her body, afraid to touch, afraid to hurt her further. “Elsa!” 

Her sister doesn’t respond.

Suddenly, she’s tugging at the restraints, unlatching them here and there, moving away cables with the desperate need to _get Elsa out of there_. 

She’s _so cold_. 

There’s a tearing noise behind her, and when she turns, she catches Kristoff ripping open a foil package with his teeth. He shakes it out, and he holds out the emergency blanket while he tries to dig something else out of his pack. “Here,” he says. 

The silvery material is so much like metal that it hurts to wrap her in it, but she does. Her throat feels tight as she lifts Elsa’s arms and legs, and she chokes down tears as her fingers brush against the skiz jacks running along her spine, on her wrists and shoulders and knees.   Anna lifts her out of her prison and holds her tightly to her chest. Elsa’s head flops against her shoulder, and Anna closes her eyes as she can feel the softest hint of breath against her jaw. 

She’s _so light_.

“Here, let me,” Kristoff says quietly, and Anna opens her eyes and clutches Elsa closer. But Kristoff just has a brace in his hands. “I don’t think, her neck isn’t strong enough. And we need to move,” he says as he puts the neck brace on. His hands hover for a moment before he tugs some of the loose blanket over Elsa’s head like a hood. 

“Hey, what are you — put that back!”

Shit. She never even heard the door open. Anna looks up to see a man in a lab coat in the doorway, key in his hand, looking startled and indignant. And then his words register and something inside her _breaks_. 

Before she can react, though, Kristoff’s hand goes for her gun belt and draws one of her pistols. In a single motion, he turns around and fires. The man falls, a hole right between his eyes. “Fuck you,” he whispers savagely. “Fuck all of you.”

She doesn’t look at the body. It doesn’t matter, not right now. “Kri— Adze,” she whispers, “we need to get out of here.”

He shudders once, then squares his shoulders. “Right. We’ve got,” he checks the time, “nine minutes.” A glance over his shoulder, and his expression looks tight but he tries to smile anyway. “Think we can do it?”

She takes a breath. Nothing to it. “Yeah. Come on.” 

He looks down, then looks a little startled that her pistol is in his hand. “Uh, sorry. Here,” he says, trying to offer it back. 

Anna shakes her head, stepping back half a step. “No, you, it’s better if you keep it right now. I’ve got,” she swallows hard and adjusts her grip on Elsa, keeping her head on her shoulder. “I’ve got...” 

He gets it, just nods, steps over the body, and peers out the door. She takes a deep breath and follows him out of this _fucking_ room.

The hallway is clear. The lights are dimmer than when they went in, and Anna realizes she can’t hear the sounds of the mountain anymore. Everything must be running on backup power. No. Not thinking about that. Not about what that means. Nine minutes. They have to get out of here in nine minutes. Well, less now. 

Her jaw hurts. 

It doesn’t matter. 

Her world collapses down to Kristoff’s back, the small, _so damn small_ , weight in her arms, and Elsa’s soft breaths against her jaw. Breathe. 

She sprints after him, footsteps keeping time, a staccato against the stone. She hears yelling from far away, from behind metal doors. There’s no one stopping them. Breathe. 

That’s what Elsa meant by fifteen. Fifteen minutes of total lockdown of the base, except for where Anna and Kristoff need to go. She bought them fifteen minutes, and Anna doesn’t know what price she paid for that. Whatever the cost was, though, its too high. How much has Elsa been paying for in blood and bone? Breathe. 

No time for stealth now. They just need to get out. They can’t afford to get in a firefight. All they can do is run. 

Put your head down, Anna, and _run_.

Kristoff pulls up to a halt at the top of a stairwell. She’s about to question when he beats her to it. “The lobby,” he says over the subvocal. Right. Glass.  

Someone has to have pulled an alarm. Or the guards would be looking. Kristoff checks his borrowed pistol and kicks open the door.

All the glass windows have been reinforced, covered up with steel plating. Nothing gets in. And nothing gets out. Total lockdown. Anna’s throat feels tight, and she ducks her head and breathes through her nose. Even right fucking now, Elsa’s protecting them, thinking twenty moves ahead of everybody else. 

How much did this fucking cost?

Elsa’s breath is cool and barely there against her skin. 

They keep running, past the pipes and labs, down staircases. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna sees the white glow of someone taking a cutting torch to a metal door that’s blocking the branching corridors. She doesn’t even know how much time they have left. It can’t be much; those doors won’t hold forever. It has to be enough.

Anna hears a rumble above her. The helipad. It’s Scratch, he must be leaving. Something inside of her _screams_ with fury that he’s walking away again, because look at what he’s done, look at what he’s wrought. The sins against her family are sharp and jagged, and they tear at her throat as she swallows them down, and just pulls the wreckage of her family closer still. Not here. Not now. 

There will be a next time. Because both she and Elsa are still breathing. This time, it’s up to Anna to keep it that way. 

They keep running. The corridor turns from concrete to stone again, the beat of her boots against it different, digging her feet in rather than sliding off as she spins around to kick the metal door shut behind her. The clang reverberates through her bones, through her teeth. Her sister doesn’t move, and Anna grinds her teeth. She wishes she could fly out of here, but she can’t, so her feet will just have to do the job. 

The scent of fresh air and pine hits her hard enough to stagger as they burst through the outside door. She sucks in deep breaths of the cold mountain air, pressing her back against the rock. The mountain is silent after Kristoff slams the door shut, Scratch’s helicopter apparently having left already. But Elsa whimpers a little in her arms, still unconscious, and Anna looks at Kristoff more than a little desperately. They’re not safe yet, for all they’ve made it out of that hellhole of a base.

The forest is, amazingly, even harder. They still don’t dare crack a chemstick, and Anna has to be extremely careful of where she puts her feet in almost complete darkness. Kristoff, it seems, is entirely aware of this, because as long as she focuses on following him, she doesn’t even stumble and instead makes her way through the carefully-picked trail he leads her on. It’s agonizingly slow, though, because at any moment, she’s expecting shouts and spotlights. Because someone, sooner or later, is going to realize that Elsa’s gone, _thank fucking god_ , and they’re likely not going to be happy about it.

She doesn’t even know if the fifteen minutes was an absolute time limit, or just how long her sister could guarantee that Eden would be helpless against her lockdown. But it really doesn’t matter, because as long as they’re moving, they still have a chance. And there’s nothing she can do about the time limit now anyway. 

That doesn’t stop her from nearly sobbing in relief when they break into the clearing, Kocoum’s vehicle still there, Sven patiently standing guard. He yips quietly as he stands up, bounding over to Kristoff. He only manages to pat his fuzzy head once before the dog sharply turns towards her and drops his head and ears, whining softly.

Oh. 

“I think you should probably take the back seat,” Kristoff says quietly as he opens the door on the truck.

“Yeah, good plan,” Anna whispers. Shotgun’s too risky, so with Kristoff’s hands holding her steady, she climbs into the back seat, still not ready to let her sister go. Elsa’s easier to hold, now that Anna’s sitting down. She’s able to fuss a little, adjusting the blanket over her. Sven bounds into the truck, laying on the floor. He raises his head and gently nudges the blanket-wrapped form with his nose, before whining softly again. 

“Hey Sven,” she says over the sound of the engine turning over. “We did it. This is Rime. Elsa. We got her out. This is...” she chokes on the words, why can’t she get them out, why are they sticking in her throat. Anna closes her eyes tight. Not yet. They’re not safe here yet. 

Sven licks her hand, then nuzzles her knees. Anna breathes again and opens her eyes.

“Hey.” She jerks her head up at the sound of Kristoff’s voice. His eyes are glued to what amounts to a trail in the dark in front of them, and she can see his knuckles are white where he’s gripping the steering wheel. “We got her. We’re almost out of this. Just need to get out of the woods, yeah?”

She breathes out again, long and hard. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The truck is filled only with the sound of their breathing and the engine humming. Everything still feels too tense, too coiled. Like a calm part of a storm, right before everything maybe goes to hell again. 

“How’s she doing?” he asks, breaking the silence again. 

Anna looks down again, forcing herself to do so. Her sister still hasn’t woken up. Hell, the only sign she’s still alive, that she’s still somehow anchored to this world, is that she’s still breathing. She’s so damn pale. Anna shifts a little so she has a free hand and uses it to lightly tug the blanket again. Her fingers hover over Elsa’s face, taking in the sunken eyes, the hollow cheeks, desperate to touch, to make sure her sister is _real_ and this is not a dream. Or a nightmare.

Elsa doesn’t stir as Anna brushes tentative, feather-light touches against her brow. She’s still cold. And if she looks at her now, bundled up, Anna can almost forget about the rigid neck brace, about the skiz jacks, about the scars. Except it’s still wrong, because it was always the other way around, with _Elsa_ holding her close when they were children. _Elsa_ tugging a blanket around her. _Elsa_ poking her in the forehead with two cool fingers.

“Anna?”

She blinks. Oh. Kristoff’s still waiting for an answer. “She hasn’t woken up yet. And she’s still really cold. Not shivering though. I don’t know what that means. Is that bad? Oh god. I don’t know. She’s breathing though?”

“Hey, hey!” he says, and Anna forces herself to stop. “Breathing is good, okay? Breathing. Very good. For both of you. And okay, the emergency blanket isn’t the best thing, but it’s only for a bit longer.” There’s a pause, and Anna can see him swallow hard in the reflection off the front windshield. “We’re not going to lose her now. Not after all this.”

Sven thumps his tail in agreement.

Okay then. Okay. 

Kristoff drives on. They don’t say anything else. There’s nothing they can say, and the truck eats up the distance. It’s not smooth, but she knows he’s trying, but it’s a goddamn forest and just nothing and everything about tonight is going as she thought it would. 

Finally, the truck breaks tree cover, and Anna can see Kocoum’s house nestled in the valley. Kristoff parks the car right up front, and before she can even move, has wrenched the driver’s side door open and is tearing off to the front porch.

“Kocoum!” 

Within seconds, the other man is stumbling out the front door, dark hair down around his shoulders and dressed only in sleep pants. He looks bleary-eyed for half a second, before he focuses on Kristoff stopping up short in front of him. “Kristoff?” 

“That thing. I was right. I, we need, I can’t...” Kristoff’s voice sounds strained. “Anna’s sister. That’s who we went to get. Elsa. She...” Anna strains to hear him, but Sven nudges her knees and sits on her feet, keeping her still. 

Kocoum puts his hands on Kristoff’s shoulders and says something too low for her to hear. But whatever it is must be what Kristoff wanted to hear, because he just slumps for a moment, and then Kocoum disappears inside and Kristoff is moving towards the truck. The back door opens, and Sven leaps out, but only to sit right next to the back wheel, almost as if he’s waiting. 

Kristoff pokes his head in. “If you scoot out backwards towards me, I’ll help you get out.”

“What was that about?”

He chews his lip. “I don’t know how bad Elsa is. Kocoum’s letting us stay here until we know.” 

Anna just nods and scoots back towards him, and his hands are gentle and strong when he lifts them both out of the truck. Once her feet are on the ground, she looks up to see his face weighted by a kind of sadness he isn’t bothering to hide. Oh. He’s picked her up before. He knows how much she weighs. 

“Go on into the house. Sven, you know the way. I’ll be right there in a minute.” 

Sven leads them up the front steps and back to the room Anna left, god, was it only a few hours ago? Gently, she finally lowers Elsa onto the bed. Her arms ache from being in one position so long, but she ignores it. Her hand trembles as she brushes the blanket hood off, still afraid to touch the scars marring her sister’s head. She doesn’t even dare take the neck brace off, not without Kristoff there. God, what if she _hurts_ her?

A soft knock on the open door draws her attention. Kocoum’s standing in the doorway, a pile of cloth in his arms. He looks at her, then at her sister in the bed. Something unreadable flashes across his face. But when he speaks, his voice is far softer than the last time they spoke. “I have some clothes from when our parents send some of the boys to us. It’s not much, but they’re clean and soft enough.” 

Words catch in her throat, and all she can do is nod. Thankfully, he seems to get it and steps into the room before offering her the pile and stepping back out. She looks down at the clothes in her hands. An unopened pack of boxers. A soft and worn pair of pants. And a huge grey hoodie, broken in and sinfully soft, drawstring already removed. It makes Anna want to cry. 

Her eyesight goes blurry as she removes the emergency blanket and slides a pair of the boxers and then the pants over Elsa’s emaciated hips. She’s trying to be as gentle as she can, but Anna can count every bone and joint as her fingers brush over them. She nearly chokes on tears when she feels the texture of the scar tissue on her legs. 

Elsa had said there was fire that night. Fire and a lot of pain. 

Anna bites her lip almost hard enough to bleed as she carefully maneuvers her sister’s skinny arms into the hoodie. She’s practically swimming in it, and it makes her look even more small and fragile. The hood is tugged over her head; maybe it’ll help get her warm? She’s still so damn cold. 

There’s another knock. Kocoum’s back, this time with an armful of blankets and Kristoff behind him. Kristoff takes a look at them, then gives his brother a strange look. Kocoum ignores him, instead speaking to her in that softer voice again while he hands over the blankets. “I don’t know what’s needed yet, so I just brought some of everything.” His eyes flick to Elsa, then back. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. Just call.”

And then it’s just the four of them in the room. Kristoff has a pinched look on his face, as if he’s fighting down some emotion, as he comes over to the bed, first aid kit in his hand. Anna moves away, slightly, but can’t bring herself to step away entirely, letting the back of her fingers rest against Elsa’s cheek. 

His lips get thinner and thinner, pressing them together as he checks Elsa’s vitals. She watches him as he carefully examines the skiz port on her wrist, his hand dwarfing hers entirely. Finally, he sits back on his heels and looks at her. “You’re gonna stay with her, right?” He shakes his head before she can answer. “Right, stupid question. She’s fine right now, but she shouldn’t be alone. I need to go talk to Kocoum.” 

He leaves. Anna takes one of the blankets, a thick blue quilt, and drapes it over Elsa, making sure that it’s not too constricting. Sven climbs up onto the bed, and before she can scold him, he lays down on her sister’s other side, far enough away to not be on top of her, but close enough to be warm. He rests his head on his paws and looks up at her. She rubs him behind his ears with her free hand. “You want to help too, don’t you?” 

His tail thumps once. 

She doesn’t know how long they sit there. Anna’s glad she slept earlier; there’s no way she would have been able to do it now. The room’s washed out in this strange grey pre-dawn light, shadows smearing in and out of the corners. Time is kept now by the slight signs of Elsa breathing, the rise and fall of her chest she can barely detect. In and out. Anna’s breath slows as she tries to keep time, as if she can breathe for her sister, the world drowning out to only the sound of air and her heart. 

Anna jerks up and looks around. That thumping noise isn’t her heart. Before she can say a word, Kocoum comes sliding in on his socks, looking far more wild than she ever expected. “Helicopters. You need to get to the basement.”

She’s got Elsa in her arms, blanket and all, before he even finishes talking. “Where’s Kristoff?” she asks as he leads her to a closet deeper in the house. 

He kneels down and pops open a trapdoor. There’s a narrow wooden set of stairs leading into a basement that looks like it’s been cut into the stone. “He went to get Doc.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off as he shoves a cracked chemstick at Sven. “I’ll answer later. You need to get down there. The stone should hide your thermal signs enough that hopefully they’ll only do a fly-by. Now go!” 

The door closes as soon as Sven’s tail clears the trap door. He’s holding the chemstick in his mouth, and it’s just enough light that Anna can make it down these steps without breaking her neck. It’s warmer than she expected down here, and at the edge of the glow, she can make out what looks like a set of bunk beds along with some other storage. The lower bunk looks good enough, so she puts Elsa down and then sits on the edge of the mattress and waits. 

There’s been a lot of waiting. 

The worst part is not knowing what’s going on, Anna decides. Well, other than the fact that now they know Eden’s figured out that their little horrorshow is over with, and now they have to keep Elsa out of their grubby hands. She rubs her eyes. Should have known she was missing something. 

And she was. The key. Scratch had a fucking key. Rime’s, _Elsa’s_ , one weakness was a simple mechanical lock. She could be the best with anything that used electricity or the ‘net, but she was powerless the second something required touching something in the real world. How many times has Anna joked about being her hands? Hah, look who’s laughing now. And Scratch knew. Knew there was one thing Elsa could do jack shit against, and put a physical lock on the door to her cage. 

Anna desperately wants to punch something. Preferably Scratch’s face in. 

A sharp huff of air makes her jerk her head up. She can see Elsa’s eyes moving rapidly under the lids, notices that her breathing rate’s increased. Shit. What’s going on? Dammit, she doesn’t know what to do, what if she’s hurt, what if she’s sick? Kristoff’s gone and she’s stuck in a goddamn _basement_ with a dog. 

Elsa’s eyes snap open, glowing harsh blue, and her jaw drops without a sound.

It takes Anna five seconds to realize she’s _screaming_. 

Then she’s scrambling closer, hesitates only for a second, because oh god, what if she hurts her, but Elsa’s locked in a silent scream, and why isn’t she making a sound? How did she learn to not make a sound? But Anna kicks the thoughts down, because Elsa needs her, and she holds the sides of her sister’s face. 

“Elsa,” she hisses, holding her face right in front of Elsa, so that all she could see is Anna. Elsa’s eyes are bright, glowing, and wild, rapidly moving back and forth, chasing something Anna can’t see. “Elsa! Elsa, I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re out, you’re here, it’s me, you’re gonna be okay.” 

Slowly, painfully, Elsa’s eyes stop their rapid movement and focus on her. The blue glow dims. “An...na?” 

It’s harsh and whisper-quiet, a rasp more than a voice. She lets go of Elsa’s face, but lets one hand linger. She thinks she’s developing the pathological need to stay in physical contact with her sister, just to remember she’s there, that she won’t vanish like frost in the morning sun.. “Yeah. It’s me.” 

“You’re...safe?” 

Anna’s lost count of how many times today she’s swallowed down tears and hurt. Goddammit, even now? Anna’s not the one who’s in terrible shape. “Yeah,” she says, voice cracking. “I’m fine. You’re out, you’re safe.” 

Elsa closes her eyes and breathes out. 

Anna’s stomach drops. “Elsa? Elsa!”

“Sorry,” she rasps, cracking her eyelids open again. “Still...here.” 

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing her thumb lightly over her sister’s cheek. Her skin is still cold, tinted blueish-grey due to the light from her eyes and the chemstick. But her eyes continue to literally dim, until they otherwise look completely normal, other than being the same blue Anna remembers. “It’s okay,” she whispers again. 

“Where?” 

“Shh.” It sounds like it’s painful for Elsa to talk, Anna thinks, with a stab of guilt. “We’re in the basement of Kocoum’s place. Kristoff’s brother? He said he heard helicopters. So we’re down here in case they have thermal sensors.”

“Do.” 

“Well, then it’s a good thing he thinks fast.” Anna bites her lip. There’s a thousand and one things she wants to ask, and not one of them works right now. All the questions of what and how and why, the questions that ghosted over her childhood and chased her these last three years. All the things she wanted to ask, all the things she wanted to say. 

And she can’t speak a damn one right now. 

There’s a knock on the trapdoor. She whirls around, one hand now on Elsa’s thin shoulder, blocking her from line of sight. Sven’s on alert, ears cocked.

“It’s me,” Kocoum says, muffled through the wood. Sven relaxes, tail wagging slightly. “It’s clear.” The door cracks open and he sticks his head down. 

Sven takes a step, then turns back to Anna, whining softly. She bites her lip. “Can you move?” she asks, turning back around. She knows the answer. But it feels like she should ask it anyway. 

But Elsa’s eyes are closed again, her breathing evened out. Even that short conversation, less than three minutes, apparently took a lot out of her and she’s dozed off. That’s...worrying, actually. 

Kocoum’s eyes are a little unreadable when they come up the stairs, Elsa once again in her arms. “Thanks,” she says softly. 

His look changes, softening the harsh lines of his face. “It’s not a problem.” He glances down. “How is she?” 

“She, she woke up, for maybe a minute or two.” Anna bites her lip. Kocoum is not Kristoff, but there’s no one else here, and she just doesn’t _know_ anymore. “I think she, she was _screaming_ when she woke up.” 

He hums a little, deep and rumbling. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to her. But maybe if, _when_ she wakes up again, we can try and see if food won’t help.” 

She gets Elsa settled back into the bedroom, and then finds herself at a loss of what to do. There’s nothing obvious for her, but she can’t leave because what if she wakes up again without Anna there? She looks up when she hears Kocoum’s heavier footsteps, and he enters the room balancing two plates and a bowl. 

“Here,” he says, shoving a plate into her hand and setting the bowl on the ground for Sven. “I figured breakfast was a good plan.” 

It’s simple, just eggs and toast and sausage, but even though she’s barely tasting it, it’s still good. They eat in silence, Kocoum pulling up two chairs from somewhere and joining her right next to the bed. He says nothing about her balancing the plate on her knees and eating one-handed. When she’s finished, he takes her plate and returns it to the kitchen. But, to her surprise, he comes back and sits with her as she waits. It should be weird, but his looming bulk next to her somehow settles something inside her. 

When Elsa next wakes up, she doesn’t scream. She just quietly, everything about her is quiet, opens her eyes, and they’re normal, not glowing. Anna can’t fight the small smile, so she doesn’t even try. “Hey,” she whispers, scooching closer. “Welcome back. How’re you feeling?” 

“Fine.” 

It’s obviously, painfully, a lie, but Anna can’t even bring herself to call her out on it. “You want to eat something?” 

There’s a slight widening of Elsa’s eyes that makes Anna’s heart want to shatter, because it’s as if the very idea of it never crossed her sister’s mind. Food. There was no way that damn coffin would have let her eat. When was the last time Elsa _ate food_? 

A scrape against the hardwood floor distracts her for half a second as Kocoum stands up. “I’ll be right back with something.” 

She nods, and turns back to see Elsa’s eyes slipping closed again. “Elsa?” 

Her eyes flutter open. “Sorry,” she rasps. 

Anna wishes she knew what she could _do_. “It’s okay. Not your fault.” 

“Tired.” 

She fusses with the hoodie over her sister’s head. “It’s okay,” she says again. “I’ll still be here. It’s fine.”

It’s not really fine, but she doesn’t know what to say. Elsa stares at her for a second, and Anna’s twists her hands in the blankets to keep from crying, because god, nothing about this is fair. Elsa dozes off again, and Anna buries her head in her hand, other still resting next to Elsa’s cheek. 

Sven nudges her elbow with his nose, catching her attention. He plops his head in her lap, and her fingers automatically start scratching him behind the ears. He woofs softly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be okay.” His ears twitch, and he looks up at her. “Kristoff’s coming back, right? He’s bringing Doc. I wish I knew what that meant. It could be she just needs something more than he could do, right? It doesn’t mean, doesn’t...it doesn’t mean something’s wrong, right? That she’s gonna, that she’s gonna...” Her fingers tighten on the ruff of his neck, and he just buries his nose into her stomach. “She’s gonna be fine.” 

She hears Kocoum’s footsteps coming down the hall, takes a deep breath, and sits up straight. He has a small bowl with a spoon in one hand, glass of ice chips in the other, and a towel draped over his arm. He puts the glass down on the nightstand. “Kristoff said she should probably be able to handle this,” he says, handing her the bowl half-full of some clear broth and towel. “So I made vegetable broth.” He looks over at Elsa’s form, then back at her. “She’s...going to need some help.” 

Oh. Anna looks down at the bowl in her hands. God. She looks back up at him. “She fell back to sleep.” 

“Do you want to try to wake her up?” 

Food would...maybe food would make her less tired. She brushes her fingers against Elsa’s cheek. “Elsa. Hey.” Her sister stirs, then opens her eyes, searching. “Hey you,” Anna says quietly. “Kocoum brought you some food.” 

“If I may,” he says, in the gentlest voice she’s ever heard from him, as he crouches down next to the bed so Elsa can see him, “I can help. If you let me, I can hold you up, Elsa, so your sister can help you with the soup.” 

Hold her up so she doesn’t choke. Because Anna doesn’t even know if she can sit up. But Elsa looks at Kocoum for a long moment, before she manages “Yes.” 

Kocoum nods, and then with careful movements that surprise Anna given his size, he lifts Elsa up and climbs into the bed before settling her so she’s leaning against his broad chest. He’s leaning against the headboard, his arms gently wrapped around her torso to keep her secure, holding her entire weight. 

Anna absently stirs the broth before bringing a spoonful up to Elsa’s lips. She manages to swallow it, and Anna’s never been more glad to see someone manage to eat before. It’s so goddamn simple, something so many take for granted, and here...Anna keeps bringing spoonfuls of a too-goddamn-simple liquid up to her older sister’s mouth. She’s spoonfeeding her big sister. How...Elsa probably fed her when she was a baby. How is this even real? 

There’s something glistening on Elsa’s cheek, right by the corner of her eye. The spoon pauses in the air. She’s, that’s a tear. “Elsa? If it’s bad, I can stop.” 

“No,” she rasps, and although maybe it’s only Anna’s imagination, she thinks Elsa’s voice is sounding a little stronger. 

Her sister is _crying_ , and Anna is so useless because she doesn’t know what to do. But Elsa opens her mouth, so the only thing she _can_ do is continue feeding her. 

All too soon, the bowl is empty. Elsa closes her eyes again, and looks like a puppet with its strings cut, slumped against Kocoum’s chest. He ducks his head to get closer to her ear. “Are you thirsty? There are ice chips,” he says quietly, then looks up at Anna.

“Yes.” Elsa opens her eyes again, halfway. 

Anna grabs the glass, and fishes out a chip of ice that she brings to Elsa’s lips. After her sister takes it, she uses the soft towel to wipe Elsa’s mouth and chin clean of soup. She hesitates for a moment, then runs her thumb gently across Elsa’s cheek, wiping away the lone tear track. 

Elsa looks at her, and there’s something in that gaze that Anna just doesn’t understand. She’s so used to her teasing, sarcastic, brilliant sister on the comms, that she doesn’t know how to read the one right in front of her. The one who can’t really talk and speaks only with her eyes, the one denied everything else Anna could read. 

She doesn’t know her sister as well as she thought she did.

Elsa falls asleep again once she’s swallowed the last of the melted ice, and Kocoum carefully extracts himself and rests her carefully back down on the pillows. He picks up the bowl and glass, nods to her once, and then leaves. He left the blanket down slightly, and instead of moving it, Anna curls her fingers into Elsa’s hand. Sven, for his part, seems content to put his head in her lap again. 

Time kind of slips away from her. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, fingers tangled up with Elsa’s. It feels like forever and no time at all, broken when Sven suddenly brings his head up and cocks it towards the door. Anna hears a car pull up shortly after, and then the car doors slamming. 

She thinks maybe she should move, get up and see, but that means leaving and...it doesn’t matter, because she hears footsteps coming down the hall and a knock on the door. Anna didn’t even realize Kocoum had closed it. “Yeah?” she asks. 

“It’s Doc. With Adze. Kristoff. Can we come in?” 

Oh thank god. “Yeah. Yeah, come in.” 

The door opens, and Anna’s never been more glad to see the other woman in her life. Doc takes one look at Elsa on the bed, though, and her spine stiffens before she starts swearing in Mandarin. Anna’s pretty sure it’s swearing; what else would sound like that? It also makes her heart rate skyrocket. 

“Nice,” Elsa rasps, and Anna jumps, not realizing she’s awake. But her eyes are still closed. 

“Rime, hush. Stop trying to talk right now,” says Doc, calmer now. “Kristoff, drop the gear over in that corner and get the next set.”

He goes, and Doc pulls on a pair of exam gloves from her pocket as she walks over. “Dammit, Rime,” she murmers, “I never thought meeting you face-to-face would be like this.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Can you open your eyes?” Elsa does, and Doc hums. “Hey there. I’m going to need to touch you a bit to do this. Is that okay?”

“Doctor.”

Somehow, Doc is apparently able to translate one-word replies. “Doesn’t mean I still can’t ask.” 

“Yes.” 

Doc picks up the hand Anna’s not holding, despite the awkward angle, and finds her pulse. Anna can’t read her expression when she puts Elsa’s hand back down on the bed. 

Kristoff comes back with more bags and puts them with the rest. “You need anything else?” 

Doc shakes her head. “I’ll call you if I need you. You might need to rescue your brother, though. I think T commandeered his kitchen.”

“T’s here?” Anna asks, really not expecting that.

Doc’s smile is lop-sided. “I was at the bar when I got the call from Kristoff. Once she found out that it had to do with you and Rime, well, I’m not sure god himself could have stopped her from coming along.” She reaches out to clasp Anna’s shoulder. “You’re okay, right? This guy here said you were fine, but it’d ease my mind to hear it from you.” 

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing wrong. Completely fine.” She ducks her head and chews her bottom lip. “Thanks, by the way. For coming.” 

The hand on her shoulder leaves, and instead Doc crouches down so Anna’s looking her in the eyes. “Hey. None of that from you either. He didn’t even need to ask.” Anna tries to nod, and Doc stands, taking a step back and turning to look at the bed. “Right. Rime...” 

“Box.” 

Doc blinks. “Okay, I’m going to need a little more than that.” 

“Box.” Elsa makes a frustrated noise, a wet rasp that shreds Anna’s heart. “A-Arc?” 

That probably shouldn’t rank up there with some of the worst things in the past few hours, but it does, because Elsa’s calling for _her_. Even this little thing, and she just needs to _think_. What could she be talking about? What bo — “Oh! The box you made Djinn get?”

“Yes,” she says, sounding a little better.

“Arc?” Doc asks, looking a little confused. 

“Hold on. Kristoff? That black gear bag of mine, where is it?” 

Kristoff nods quickly. “It’s still in Kocoum’s truck. Hold on,” he says, already running off. He’s back quickly, dropping the bag at her feet. “I’m...gonna go see if Kocoum needs help. Or a break.” He hesitates for a moment. “Just call if you need me?” Anna nods, and he smiles faintly before disappearing down the hall. Sven, surprisingly, stays in the room. 

Anna breathes out, then reluctantly untangles her fingers from Elsa’s hand. She unzips the bag, roots around in it, and pulls out the locked metal box. Thank you, paranoia, for making her pack it. Her fingers brush over the metal, trying to find a way to open it, and dig into a catch. But it just reveals a pull-out keypad. 

“I don’t know the code.” 

“Your...birthday.” 

Her chest feels tight. Goddammit. Her eyesight goes blurry for a moment, but she blinks rapidly to clear it as she taps out the numbers. The box clicks open; inside are a bunch of vials of various liquids, all carefully labeled. It takes Anna’s brain a second to catch up. Drugs. The box is full of drugs. 

“Can I see that?” Doc asks. Anna hands the box over wordlessly, and Doc’s lips thin as she examines the contents. “Rime. Are these what you think they had you on?” 

“Yes.”

Christ on a bicycle, it must be a goddamn _pharmacy_ in that box. Anna can see the muscles in Doc’s jaw tighten, and looks away. Elsa’s eyes are closed again, and Anna has to fight to keep her’s open, keep herself watching. What did those bastards _do_ to her? 

“Well, that makes this a hell of a lot simpler and harder,” Doc sighs. She puts the box on the nightstand, and turns to Anna. “Arc, I _really_ hate to do this, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 

Wait, what? “Doc! I can’t, how can you—?” 

Doc sighs again. “Arc. I know. _I know_. You want to know. Believe me, I _understand_.” She holds up her hands to stop Anna from answering that. “But I’m now your sister’s doctor, and I’m supposed to watch out for her privacy. And her ability to choose to tell you things. And those are both things, privacy and choice, that I don’t think Rime’s had a lot of in the last few years.”

Fuck. _Goddamn_ that argument, because when Doc puts it like that, everything just comes crashing down, and Anna can’t argue against that. “Doc...I....” 

“Please.” Anna whips her head around at Elsa’s quiet rasp. “Arc. Not...here. Can’t...” Elsa struggles with the words, eyes closed tight. A tear escapes and trails down her cheekbone. “With...you..here.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Anna sees Doc clench her jaw and turn away. It feels like the ground just went out from under her feet, and she’s falling and doesn’t know where she’s going to land. “I...what...how...” 

“ _Please_.” And that wet rasp is back, digging claws into Anna’s heart and tearing it out of her chest. “Later.”

“Arc.” She looks up, and Doc is looking at her with nothing but kindness. “As soon as Rime gives me permission, you’ll be the first to know, okay? But you have to let me do my job.” 

Sven whines, and shoves his head underneath Anna’s hand. She forgot he was here, and her fingers tangle up in his fur. He leans his weight against her leg and whines again, and the warmth and weight of him is enough to ground her, just for a little bit. “Promise?” And she hates how her voice cracks, high and needy. She’s not the one who’s supposed to be needy, not right now. 

“I promise.” 

Sven nudges her towards the door, and she finds her feet following him. She looks over her shoulder when she crosses the threshold, and stares at Elsa lying small and still on the bed until Doc gently closes the door. 

Anna would have probably stood there staring at that wooden door for however long it took, but Sven nudges her again and she stumbles away. He woofs at her, and then sits down on his haunches right in front of the door. She rubs his ears. “Are you gonna stay here?” He woofs. “You trying to tell me to leave?” Another woof. She swallows hard. “You...you’d tell me if something...happens, right?” He woofs again and licks her hand. “Okay.” 

It’s hard, walking down the hall. Everything she is makes her want to turn around and go back. But Elsa...asked. She clenches her eyes shut. She asked. So Anna will put one foot in front of the other and walk away. Even if it makes her soul feel raw. 

She needs something. Anything. Her hands start to shake, and she shoves them into her pockets. Just something to do, something so her brain isn’t running in circles outside that door.

She stumbles into the kitchen. Kocoum is at the stove. T’s got a knife in one hand and some kind of meat in the other, on the cutting board. The older woman looks up, and Anna can see concern and sadness and pity written in every line and nearly chokes on it. “Arc..”

“Hi, T,” Anna manages. Her voice sounds distant to her own ears. “Do you, do you need anything?” Please. Dear god, she just needs something to _do_. 

T’s eyes are the worst as she slowly shake her head. “No, we’re fine here. Arc. Honey. You’ve...how about you take a moment for yourself? You’re still all geared up. At least get yourself comfortable.” 

Anna blinks and looks down. T’s right; she is still got all her equipment and armor on. One of her holsters is still missing it’s pistol. “Oh. Right.” Then she kind of lets her arms hang uselessly. 

“It’s okay if you just throw it on a chair for now,” Kocoum says. “Kristoff does it all the time.” 

Anna swallows. “Okay. I’ll...I’ll go do that.”

“Arc...” But Anna can’t deal with that level of kindness, with that kind of concern, not right now. Her hands feel numb as she mechanically strips off her gear, fingers fumbling for the first time in years over the straps. But she manages it and dumps the gunbelt and armor on a nearby chair. Once the weight is off, though, everything just seems like too much. She feels like she’s choking, her chest feels too tight. She can’t breathe in this house. 

The morning air is cold when it hits her as she runs out the back door. The sun is starting to peak over the mountains, brilliant and bright over the forests and spilling into the valley. The air on her tongue is crisp and clean, nothing like the oppressive weight of the city.

It’s the winter solstice. 

Anna crouches down and watches the sunrise. “Happy birthday, Elsa.”


	16. protocol_03.01: checksum

The repetitive _thwunk_ of metal against wood finally breaks Anna out of her thoughts. She stands up, fingers stiff with cold, looking around for the source of the sound. Kristoff’s not too far off, out of immediate line-of-sight of the back door, with an axe and a pile of logs he’s turning into firewood. His face is twisted in a mess of anger and frustration, emotion bleeding out of every downward swing, like the wood had personally insulted him.

_Thwunk._

He puts a new log up on the stump.

_Thwunk.  
_

The next one.

_Thwunk.  
_

Maybe she makes a sound. Maybe it’s something else. But he looks up and sees her as he reaches for the next log. “Anna? What, why are you out here?” He sounds confused, concerned, not angry. Maybe he’s saving it for the dead trees.

She shrugs, trying to go for casual, because she doesn’t know how else to go. “Doc kicked me out of the room. For the exam.”

He lets the axe dangle at his side. “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you...are you okay?”

_Anna’s_ not the one laying half- _dead_ on a bed in the house. “Fine,” she says shortly, clutching her arms. “I just...” she shakes her head. “Nevermind.” Can’t break now. “What are you doing?”

Kristoff gestures to the pile of firewood that’s at least up to his chest. “House needed some firewood. It’s...I want to be useful.”

Useful. “I know the feeling,” she mutters.

He hesitates for a second, before offering the axe. “Want to give me a break?”

She takes it, feeling the heft of the worn wood grain under her palm. It’s solid and heavy, and something coils inside her as she raises it above her head to swing down on the log Kristoff put on the stump before backing away.

_Thwunk._

She brings the axe down with all her strength and the two halves fall away. Kristoff feeds more logs to her swings, and her mind drifts until all that exists is her and the axe, the wood just another thing she has to overcome.

_Thwunk.  
_

The blade of the axe bites into the wood, driving down deep, and gets stuck. Anna pulls on the handle, trying to retrieve the blade. The force sends her stumbling back half a step, but she raises it above her head again and brings it down. Except she can't strike the same spot, and the log splits weirdly, leaving the larger piece on the stump.

She's suddenly, irrationally, furious at it. Goddammit, how goddamn hard is it to split a shitty piece of wood? She brings the axe down again.

Stupid wood. Stupid axe. Stupid goddamn everything. The axe bites down.

She got her sister back. Except Elsa is probably three-quarters dead and Anna’s _out here_ and not _in there_ , trying to chop goddamn wood because she’s too goddamn fucking useless right now to do anything else. Thirteen years. Thirteen goddamn years, and not once did Elsa even say a word about how she was surviving. Not even living, because that sure as hell wasn’t living, and Anna wonders if she hadn’t gone after Prince that day, how long would Elsa have stayed there? Would she have let Anna just continue on her merry goddamn way, taking all the time in the world while Elsa payed out her pounds of flesh?

Anna snarls. Yes, yes she goddamn would.

At the moment, now that everything is out, it’s blindingly obvious that her sister has a freaking martyr complex or something _equally stupid_. And whatever she’s trying to do, she’s not telling Anna, and Anna is really goddamn tired of being kept in the dark. She’s not a little kid anymore. She’s spent three long, quite frankly terrifying at times, years seeing some of the worst bits of society. Even if all that pales in comparison to tonight.

Scratch is still out there. And just the mere thought of him makes her throat and hands burn, and her thoughts howl. He ruined everything, he took everything, everything she ever had that was actually worth anything. All she has is broken pieces and broken dreams, and _fuck him straight to hell_ if he’s going to walk away. After everything he’s done.

“Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa there!” Kristoff’s voice cuts through the haze of red.

Anna blinks, axe raised over her head.

“Easy. I think that log’s about dead.”

She looks down. The log isn’t so much a log as it is broken kindling. Oh. She lowers the axe, then lets it fall from her suddenly-numb fingers. She didn’t even notice what she was doing.

Isn’t that always the case, though? She didn’t notice. How much of this all could have been avoided, could have been stopped earlier, if only she’d freaking _noticed_? Elsa’s odd silences, the always-too-damn-calm voice, the goddamn glitches? How many clues were there, right in front of her face, that Anna _didn’t notice_? Or was too wrapped up in her own shit to even _try_ to notice?

Goddammit.

It’s too damn hard to breathe. She squeezes her eyes shut. Anna feels like there’s something caught in her throat, sharp and spiky, and she can’t choke it down without it tearing something inside her. Her hands curl into fists, and she tries to not let herself shake apart.

“Um, shit. Hey.”

Anna cracks her eyes open, still dry. Kristoff is standing in front of her, looking awkward and concerned and why is he looking at her like that?

“Do you, I mean, well, you look like. Um.” He makes a small frustrated noise. “Do you want a hug?”

She stares at him, a little confused. But her body must not be paying attention to her brain, because she feels herself nod a little, and Kristoff is stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

It’s awkward. He’s hugging her but leaving her space, and her arms are hanging uselessly at her sides. But he’s warm, and Anna suddenly realizes how cold it is and leans in a little more. She can smell the detergent on his shirt. It’s a little industrial, but clean and a little bit of forest, mixed in with the smell of gunpowder and oil.

It’s warm and safe and Anna bursts into tears.

It’s not pretty. It’s not delicate. They’re huge, gulping sobs that wrack her entire frame. Everything comes crashing down, and her knees would buckle under the weight of it if Kristoff wasn’t there to catch her. She buries her face into his shirt, fingers grasping the material, and he just holds her as she mixes tears and snot into his shoulder. And she cries.

She cries for her family, dead and lost years ago, the parents she never really got to mourn. She cries for her sister, lying cold and broken in a bed, barely able to talk.

And she cries for herself. For all her broken dreams and shattered futures.

Anna doesn’t know how long she stands there, face buried in the fabric over his chest. But when she stops, his shirt is soaked. She sniffles. “Sorry about your shirt,” she mumbles into the fabric.

“Huh? Oh,” he says, looking down. She can feel him shrug lightly. “Eh, that’s what washing machines are for.” He makes a face. “Thank god.”

Despite herself, she snorts as she rubs her face in her sleeve. “Jerk,” she says, punching him lightly in the shoulder as she takes a step back. She does feel better, a least a little. Lighter at least. She bites her lip, and tucks a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. “Thanks,” she says softly.

“It’s just a shirt,” Kristoff mumbles, looking very interested in his shoes. But she can see the tips of his ears turn a little pink, and okay. She knows what he means.

The sound of the door opening breaks the moment. Anna looks over her shoulder, wondering.

“Anna?” says Kocoum from the doorway. “Doc wants you.”

She looks back to Kristoff, who just makes a shooing motion. Anna doesn’t need to be told twice, and bolts across the grass to the door. “Is she...? Does she...?”

“Whoa there. Save those for Doc. Come on.” She ducks under his arm and is about to head down the hall to Elsa’s room when he grabs her by the back of her jacket. “This way,” he says, steering her towards another part of the house.

“But— “

“This way,” he repeats. He practically frog-marches her, gently though, to a dining room. Doc is sitting at the table, two glasses and a bottle of alcohol in front of her. A chill goes down Anna’s spine. Shit. Shit. Shit.   Something’s wrong. Something’s horribly wrong and she needs to see Elsa and oh god, she shouldn’t have left, goddammit, why did she leave—

“Arc. Sit down.”

There’s something in Doc’s expression that is scaring the shit of out of Anna. “Where...why are you—” The words strangle themselves in her throat.

Doc sighs. “T’s with Elsa, okay? She’s resting, and she, well, she asked for it this way. There are ways this conversation needs to go, and...she can’t do it, in there.”

Anna goes very still. Elsa told Doc her name. That’s...her sister is more paranoid than _she_ is. She closes her eyes tight and counts to ten. Okay. This isn’t about her. This _can’t_ be about her. If Elsa is willing to let Anna hear the truth, in all it’s probably-terrible glory, then Anna knows she needs to get over herself and listen. Meet halfway.

And now, hearing Doc say “Arc” just seems wrong. She swallows down all her objections and sits down across from her. “Anna. My name is Anna.”

Doc nods slowly, and grabs the bottle. “I was born Mulan. Doc fits better these days.”  She pours an equal amount into both glasses, then passes one across the table. “Here.”

Anna gingerly takes the glass. “Am I going to need this?”

“You might. I’m not going to lie and say this will be an easy conversation. If you need it, it’s there.” Doc — Anna can’t think of her as anything else right now — puts her own glass off to the side and pulls out her phone and puts it on the table. “So. I have good news, and I have bad news. Which way do you want to do this?”

Yeah, okay. Anna stares down at the amber liquid, glass cool against her fingers. Take the leap. She looks up into Doc’s eyes. “Bad news first.” She bites her lip. “And don’t sugar-coat it.”

Doc nods. “Elsa is in terrible shape. On the surface, she’s suffering from extreme malnutrition, muscular atrophy, dependency on at least five different drugs, likely skiz dependency, and the effects of multiple invasive surgeries on her central and peripheral nervous system,” she says bluntly. “Stemming from that, at minimum, includes delayed growth and stress on her internal organs, as well as the psychological issues of her captivity.”

Each word feels like a sledgehammer to Anna’s heart. Well, she asked for blunt. “Right. Psychological issues. She was...trapped in that machine. For years.”

“Yes. Arc. Anna. There’s no easy way to say this.” And suddenly, Doc looks older and very tired. “Elsa was tortured. Almost constantly. For thirteen years.”

The glass clatters to the table, slipping from her suddenly-numb fingers. It wobbles, not spilling, but Anna’s barely aware of it. She’s not really aware of anything but those damning words echoing through her. Someone’s taken her soul and slid a knife into it, and has cast her into the void. There’s nothing there, nothing but the truth that she so desperately wanted. Because Doc isn’t lying. Anna knows this deep, beyond her bones and into the very fabric of herself.

Tortured. For thirteen years.

She doesn’t even know where to make sense of that, if it’s even possible to make sense of that. “What?” The word tumbles from her mouth, coating her tongue like the ashes of dreams and preconceptions. She should have been faster, worked harder, done something more. Shouldn’t have wasted so much time.

Paid for in blood and bone.

_“It was because of my powers.”  
_

Anna jolts backwards, staring at Doc’s phone. She never thought she’d hear that voice again. She never _wanted_ to hear that voice again, now that she knew the truth of it, that it was a hollow mask for her sister to be locked behind. To hear it now...

“You jacked her back _in_?” she hisses at Doc. “After all of that, you — “

“I know. I _know_.” Doc rubs her face with her hands. “It _sucks_. But I said there was a likely skiz dependency. Considering how long she’s been connected, it’s wiser to taper her off it.”

“But — “

_“Anna. I asked her to do it.”_ And Anna doesn’t know if it’s her imagination or the knowledge of reality that makes Elsa just sound tired.

“It’s just feels...wrong, to hear you like this again,” she admits quietly. It feels like giving up.

_“It’s...it’s difficult,”_ she says slowly. _“Everything is...I...I’m not used to it. My...body, I guess. It doesn’t feel like me. I want to be here for this, I want to talk to **you**. But it doesn’t feel right, to do it in that room. I’m...it’s hard to remember that’s me.”  
_

It makes a horrible amount of sense. Even though it still feels like there’s this gap between the two of them that has nothing to do with distance. This entire thing is so messed up. When did the world get so screwed up?

“All right,” she breathes out, and then picks up the glass again. Debates taking a sip, because christ on a bicycle, Anna doesn’t know how much more of this she can handle without liquid courage. Oh screw it. She takes a sip, and nearly coughs as the liquor burns a trail down her throat. “All right. You said because of your powers? How does that follow?”

_“There’s a...strong emotional component to my powers. I always knew this. It’ll react if I’m anxious or stressed. Or scared.”_ Elsa pauses, as if she’s trying to find the words. Maybe she is. _“Especially when I’m scared. It’s an automatic thing, like adrenalin in fight-or-flight.”  
_

“The skiz jacks they surgically implanted form a network that’s also wired to very specific regions of her brain,” Doc says, taking over. “From what she tells me, they could induce sensory perception and memory retrieval.”

_“They...could make me relive the worst parts of my life, over and over. And could trick my mind into seeing a different ending. The ice would...respond.”  
_

Anna takes a sip again, because otherwise she’s going to start crying again, and she’s not sure she has any tears left. Because what the hell. Elsa was _eight years old_. What the _hell_ kind of monsters _are_ these people?

Kristoff shouldn’t have shot that one. It was too good for him, she thinks viciously.

But that’s not what she has to focus on right now. There’s more here, and Elsa’s _talking_ , and Anna’s not sure she wants the answers, even though she knows she does. She _needs_ to know. Because she needs to hold these people accountable.

“All the time?” she whispers past numb lips.

_“Sort of? The sensory stuff, yes. They did. The somatic response was good enough for them. The memories...yes and no.”_ There’s a pause, and Anna realizes she’s not going to like the next part. _“The low-level version, I eventually learned to, well, ignore. I’d bury myself elsewhere. The instinctual reaction would...happen, but I’d be...not there. The other version...they’d force me awake. And I couldn’t run from that.”_

The implications of that hit her like a lightning bolt. “The glitches. When you glitched, you’d...”

_“Yes. That’s what those were.”_ Elsa just sounds exhausted, there’s no denying that now, but she keeps going. _“The thing is, they gave me skiz jacks. Those are always two-way. They tried firewalling me in, but they knew I could get past at least one of them. I didn’t know to be careful the first time, when I was...little. So the method to induce one of the...other versions, which would also reel me back in, it was something I couldn’t hack.”  
_

Was that...Kristoff turned a key on the console. And Elsa glitched right when Scratch turned it. That key wasn’t to open the chamber; it must have been how they...forced her back. Maybe something as simple as completing a circuit. Did Elsa know? Did she know that it was so damn close, and so outside her reach? Anna hopes that she didn’t, but knows that she did.

But there’s more to what her sister just said. “‘The first time’?”

_“I figured out how to hide myself away fairly early on. I was just trying to get away as best I could. I ended up flinging my, well, consciousness into the local network. They caught me and built better firewalls. So I figured out how to get past them, without getting caught.”  
_

“And then out into the wider net,” Anna says softly. “That’s why you’re so good. You had to be.”

_“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I...I didn’t know how.”  
_

“It’s...” It’s not okay. But it is. “I understand.” She takes another sip; maybe she’ll get used to the taste at this rate. That’s a terrifying thought. She shudders. “Did it, did it hurt?”

_“That’s...complicated.”  
_

Doc joins back in, apparently able to translate that non-answer. “Some of the drugs they had her on were painkillers and sedatives. _They_ might not have thought she was in pain, and it might be hard for Elsa to tell what was...physical and what was psychosomatic.”

_“Basically that. It didn’t always hurt, and not always in the way that slamming your hand in a door would. It’s hard to explain.”_

Anna nods, then realizes again that Elsa can’t see that, dammit, and winces. “Right. Okay.” She rubs her forehead and looks at the ceiling, trying not to cry again. Even though it’s just Doc here, and she’s pretty sure Doc is the last person who would judge her for that. “God, how did you...I don’t know how you survived like that.”

Doc makes a small noise, and Anna shifts her gaze to her. “That is a very good question.” She sighs. “Elsa is sane. By all rights, she shouldn’t be.”

Something grips her heart again in icy claws. If Elsa can’t think of her body as hers, then that’s the only thing left. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve seen skiz cases. I’ve seen _bad_ skiz cases, where their brains are long fried and no one’s home. And of the worst I’ve seen, not one of them was jacked in as long as Elsa has been. By length alone, not even counting the torture, your sister should be a goddamn vegetable.” Doc breathes out sharply. “But she’s not. She’s brilliant and lightning fast and it’s amazing.”

“But...how?” It feels like a betrayal to even ask that.

_“You saved me, Anna.”_ Elsa’s voice is soft. _“All I had to do was hang on, because I knew you were out there.”  
_

“She needed an anchor,” Doc says quietly as Anna reels. “She got something better, long before tonight.”

Oh. She bites her lip and rubs her face against her sleeve. Oh. What in the world is she supposed to even say to that?

Nothing, really. So she doesn’t. “So what’s the good news?” And if her voice feels a little scratchy and thick, neither Doc nor Elsa say a word about it.

“Well, that, for one,” says Doc, leaning back in her chair. “And she’s alive pretty much goes without saying. I can treat most of the problems. And then there are the nanomachines.”

“Nanomachines? I know there were some in the...chamber when we got her out but...they...” Anna blinks, then feels the blood drain out of her face. “You mean they went _inside_ her?”

“Yes. They’re...threaded pretty extensively throughout all of her nervous system, as well as other organs. From what Elsa tells me, Eden originally put them in to help keep her alive and to better manipulate stimuli from the skiz jacks.” A slightly-lopsided grin crosses Doc’s face. “They didn’t expect her to reprogram them with her brain and take all of them out of their control.”

_“Forgive me for not wanting a kill-switch in my brain.”  
_

Despite herself, Anna snorts a laugh. That comment was pure Elsa, and until this moment, she thought she’d never hear that kind of dry wit again. “Would that be the glowing eyes?”

Doc nods. “Yes. But, more importantly, we might be able to use them elsewhere.” She leans forward. “We might, and I want to stress this, _might_ be able to use the nanomachines to jump-start and help Elsa’s muscular and skeletal regeneration.”

For the first time all night, wild hope sparks to life in her chest. “You mean...”

“I don’t know if she’ll ever walk again. But Elsa and I discussed it, and, well, we’re going to try.”

_“I need to try reprogramming them first,”_ she cautions, but it’s not enough to stop Anna from smiling. _“It might take some time.”  
_

“Which is why you should really rest, Elsa, now that I think we’re done here,” Doc says as she picks up the phone. “Disconnect and sleep. Or I’ll send your sister in to make you.”

_“Right. Okay. I’ll...see you in a bit, right Anna?”_ She sounds small, hesitant for a moment, and despite Anna’s moment of happiness, she feels her heart clench again.

“Yeah. I’ll, I’ll be there, when you wake up,” she says as Doc turns her phone off.

She slips the phone back into her pocket, and Anna watches Doc grab her glass and slam the liquor back. Before her eyes, Doc falls away. leaving something darker and more worn behind. Mulan pours herself another drink, downs it, and pours a third before rubbing her forehead tiredly. “I fucking hate Eden,” she mutters.

Anna blinks rapidly. That is...unexpected. There’s certainly enough reason right here to hate them, but this sounds, well, older. “You’ve run into them before?”

Mulan looks out from behind dark hair, her expression carefully blank. “Once upon a time. They’ve gotten no better, and a hell of a lot more degenerate.”

“How?”

“I wasn’t always a doctor in the undercity.” Mulan shakes her head and drains her glass before getting up from the table. “But that is a story for another day. Go see your sister, Anna.”

Anna doesn’t need to be told twice.

T looks up when she enters the room, standing from the chair. “She just fell asleep, honey.” She leans over Elsa’s sleeping form, fussing momentarily with the quilt before stepping away. She shakes her head. “Never in a million years...”

“Yeah. I know,” Anna says as she brushes her fingertips against the back of Elsa’s hand. Her sister’s fingers are long and thin, cold to the touch. Now that she knows why, the icy skin is strangely comforting.

T clears her throat, making Anna look up. “Food in the kitchen should almost be ready. I’ll bring you something, Arc.”

“Anna.” She meets T’s eyes steadily. “My name. It’s Anna.”

T’s eyes soften further. How in the world did she luck out enough to fall in with such people? “Anna then. And you’re allowed to call me Tiana if you want, but you already know T’s just as good. And I’ll have food for Elsa, when she wakes up.”

So that’s how it goes. The hours bleed into each other in that room. Anna sits by Elsa’s bed. Sometimes she reads a book either Kristoff or Kocoum leave behind. Sometimes, she just sits there. Sven stays with her, silently watching her sister breathe on the bed. She’s gotten better at helping Elsa eat whenever she wakes up, despite how awkward it is.

And it’s still weird, awkward, to talk to her when she’s jacked in. It’s hard to talk to the voice she’s known for the last three years, and see her sister’s body and glowing blue irises beneath the half-closed eyelids right in front of her. But she doesn’t know how to make things better. All she can do is hope things will get better and be there as Elsa tries and Doc treats and Kristoff, T, and Kocoum care.

The care is nearly her undoing, but she can’t cry again, not like that first time. Even when the gentleness and thought, the care they show her and her sister, as if they’re precious, makes her eyes burn and her heart clench. Not when Doc’s patience and care steers Elsa through even minor withdrawal symptoms and bad hours where she shakes and gasps and freezes the room. Because she can’t cry in this room, not over her sister trapped in a body she doesn’t even think of as hers, and Anna can’t be anywhere else.

The first time she falls asleep in the chair, half-flopped onto the bed and using Sven as a pillow, someone was nice enough to cover her with a blanket. The second time, Kristoff hauls her up to sleep in an actual bed, despite her protests. At least it’s just down the hall, and honestly, she’s out the second her head hits the pillow. So maybe he had a point.

It’s sometime on the second or third day that Doc brings it up. She’s in the room with her and Kristoff, checking on Elsa’s responses. For her part, Elsa seems to have managed to start looking annoyed at things, which Anna supposes is progress. “So what’s your next move?”

“Huh?” Anna quickly glances at Kristoff, but he looks as confused as she is.

Doc stands up straight and rolls her shoulders before looking at them. “Your next move. You really can’t stay here.” She frowns. “Eden isn’t really the type to give up. They’ll try to get what they want, even if you don’t always know what that is.”

Anna pulls a face. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She sighs and tugs on a braid, debating on whether she actually wants to give the terrible thought that’s been lurking in the back of her mind a voice. “Part of me thinks this was too easy.”

“Didn’t you say you’ve been searching for three years?” Kristoff scowls. “And the stuff we pulled isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘easy’.”

“I know. And we had Elsa here working on...god knows what.”

“Thanks...for that,” Elsa rasps. Anna shrugs sheepishly at her, getting an eyeroll in response.

“In any case, it’s just a feeling. Kinda like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Mulan — and she’s definitely Mulan now — crosses her arms. “Good instinct,” she says, catching their attention again. “You got Elsa out, which they’re _not_ going to like. It’s probably luck that they haven’t found us yet.” Her smile is slightly lop-sided. “Probably don’t expect the people who broke in to be crazy enough to hide out less than 50 kilometers away.”

Wow, put it that way...

“Hid from...helicopters.”

Anna takes over for her sister, saving her from talking more than she has to. “Yeah, before you came. They sent out a couple to do sweeps, I guess. I don’t know how far they went.”

“Far enough that I saw them,” Kristoff says with a frown. “Just a flyby of the highway.”

“Like I said, luck.” Mulan sighs. “You’re going to need a plan. Elsa can probably be moved, but that might be tricky. Honestly, I’d feel better if I could keep an eye on you.”

Which, honestly? Makes sense. Except Anna will admit her apartment is a minor disaster area at the best of times, and probably no place for someone with, uh, mobility issues. And while T would probably be more than willing to give them a room at Sanctuary, they’d be tiny and cramped and probably not weather one of Elsa’s icy little problems that well. She tugs on a braid. The problem is that she’s basically going back blind, and this time, she can’t count on Elsa to help her out with intel.

Well, she could, but at the moment, Doc was trying to keep her presence online down as much as possible, in case Eden had some kind of tracker on her. Or were waiting to see if she reappeared or something. Anna would make a joke about paranoia, but all of this sounds way too reasonable right now. But that means that they need some other way of getting information.

She sighs and pulls out her phone. It’s about time she called the Contessa anyway and thanked her for her help in getting the information they needed to find Eden in the first place.

Anna really isn’t expecting for Contessa herself to pick up after the second ring.

“Arc, what the hell did you _do_?”

She pulls the phone away for half a second and stares at it, surprised by the vehemence. “What do you mean, what did I do?”

“Arc, I give Rime some intel, and then you both drop off the fucking grid. _Rime_ drops off the grid. And _then_ I get reports of the fucking _Men in Black_ crawling all over Jeorling and Harborpointe. Forgive me for trying to put two and two together.”

“The Docks? Why would they...”

“So you did do something!” Aw hell. Anna winces at Contessa’s tone, choosing to ignore the look of concern Kristoff shoots her. She’s in for it now. “Goddammit, Arc.”

She takes a deep breath. Well, she wanted information. Time to try to get it. “Okay. What exactly is going on over there? We’ve been...out of contact.”

Contessa sighs. “You mean what’s been giving me a giant headache? Try everything. Your mystery man’s gotten a hold of a press release. Says blacksiders stole something ‘very important’ from Helios and not only are they going to prosecute, but now the talking heads are making noises about how it’s time to clean out the undercity once and for all.”

Anna stills. “They can’t do that,” she says, suddenly numb. “They can’t. What about all the people? That’s...that’s thousands of people, what are they going to do?”

“I know that. You know that. And I’m pretty sure they know that and don’t give a damn. We’re scum to them. And this is just an excuse to get them talking. They’ve done it before and nothing ever comes of it.”

She stares at Elsa on the bed, feeling like she’s about to fall. Her sister stares back, blue eyes wide and full of guilt. Somehow, Anna isn’t surprised that Elsa knows what she’s probably hearing, what she’s thinking about. Twenty steps ahead of everyone else. “Maybe not this time.”

“Arc...”

“It’s, they have the arcology now. We never figured out where they were going to put it. What if...”

“ _Fucking_ hell. You mean this time might not actually be just bluffing.” She hears something crash in the background. “What the _fuck_ did you steal?”

Anna tries not to bristle too much at the ‘what’. Contessa doesn’t know. And so she stares at Elsa as she answers, because this is just as much her as it is Anna. “I can’t answer that. Not right now. I need...I need some time. I’m sorry. I’ll get back to you.”

“Arc. Arc!”

She hangs up, then looks down at the phone in her hand. She can feel the combined stares of Elsa, Kristoff, and Mulan burning holes into her.

Kristoff finds his voice first. “Anna, what’s going on?”

“Well, I know where Eden went to find us.”

“Where they went...you mean they’re in the city?”

She lets out a deep breath and looks up. “Yeah. They’re looking for Elsa. For us. And Scratch already got the media talking about cleaning out the undercity.”

Mulan’s glare is sharp enough to slice her to the bone. “And this time, they’ve got a reason. Oh shit.” She rubs her forehead. “Shit. This is bad.”

“Anna...if they want...” Elsa seems to struggle with the words.

Anna points at her, suddenly furious. “If the next words out of your mouth are _anything_ along the lines of giving you up, I will...do something.”

Elsa’s lips press together in a mulish line, and she looks highly annoyed. “But...you...” She makes a noise of utter frustration. “Need...jack.”

Kristoff glances over. “Hey, you just got off that. Are you sure...”

“Need...jack. _Talk_.”

Doc pokes him in the head. “Let her go.” She grabs the connector and leans over the bed to gently lift Elsa up. “Just the local network,” she murmurs as she slides the network plug into the skiz jack on her neck.

Elsa’s irises immediately glow blue, and her face takes on that half-slack stare as Doc slowly lowers her back down to the pillow. It’s so goddamn creepy and wrong to see, and it’s all the weirder because Anna’s standing right here and watching this happen and it still doesn’t feel right. It probably never will.

_“Right, okay. Much better.”_ Elsa’s voice cracks over a speaker they set up just for this. _“Anyway, what I was **trying** to say, Anna, is that if they want me back and they want the undercity cleared, there’s little reason for them to stop if they’ve only got one of those.”_

“Right. So how about we don’t give you up?” Anna grits out.

_“Great, we’re on the same page. Because that plan sucks. A lot.”  
_

Oh. Well...okay then, that’s less infuriating. “So what do you suggest instead?”

_“I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to go back. But keeping me out puts you, and everyone else apparently, in danger.”_ Before Anna can jump in on that, Elsa continues. _“I spent too long keeping you safe. They don’t know who you are, they can’t. I hid you too well. But I don’t want them to get their hands on you.”  
_

“We could run,” she whispers. As soon as she says it, she sees it laid out in front of her. They could run. Run from this place, run from Eden, from Helios, from everyone. Anna carrying Elsa on her back, running forever. Because they would. They wouldn’t be able to stop, not really. Helios would find them. Someone would find them, would talk, would see, and then what?

And Anna looks at the broken form of her sister in the bed and bites her lip. She doesn’t know how long Elsa could run. Part of her believes she could run forever. The more realistic side, the side ground into her over the last three years, the side that watched Elsa shake and cry out soundlessly as she painted the room in ice mere hours ago, that side knows the answer, in all its damning sorrow.

Running is a liability.

She looks at Doc, crouched by the bed, watching her sister breathe with a practiced eye. They really could not have asked for better than Doc, who dropped everything and came running, who’s been known to work miracles. She didn’t have to do that. But she did, and Anna knows she’s hiding her own secrets and has her own reasons, but she’s grateful for the care just the same. And T and Kocoum too, who gave care when they didn’t have to. When they’re pretty much strangers, T for how long and Kocoum let them into his house, and she just knows he’s as prickly as Kristoff is.

And she looks at Kristoff, standing with Sven by his side. He’s given so much, helped them when he didn’t have to. Anyone would have run for the hills after hearing her story. Deciding to go after a megacorp? To steal back someone from the clutches of an organization most blacksiders think of as the boogeymen? Dropping them and running would have been the smart thing. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t let them go alone. And Anna knows she couldn’t have gotten Elsa out fast enough on her own.

She doesn’t think she could leave him. Any of them.

She looks again at Elsa, and sees her sister’s head has shifted. It looks like she’s almost looking back, those glowing blue eyes burning straight into the core of herself. She remembers looking at them, once, when they didn’t glow and were in a younger face. They were sitting on their parents’ laps, and Anna had asked her Papa why they gave money to the hospital.

And Anna feels like she knows what their answer is, without even having to speak. “We have to go back.”

“Anna, are you crazy?” Kristoff half-yells. “That’s where they are!”

They probably are crazy. But they are their parents’ daughters.

“Kristoff, where else would we go? Elsa can’t, she needs Doc and other things that she can’t get if we’re always running.” She folds in on herself, just a little, feeling the weight of everything settle on her shoulders again. “And we’d always be running. And Eden will tear the undercity apart.”

“It’s not your job to fix everything,” he says, fierce and painfully earnest.

_“No. But we can’t walk away either.”_

“And we don’t have to walk in blind,” Anna says, and his shoulders fall, conceding the point. Mulan looks on, and Anna swears she looks faintly approving. So she takes a deep breath, reaches for the phone again, and dials.

“Arc. What the actual fuck.”

“Contessa, we’re outside the city and need some help getting back in. Quietly.”

“That is a tall order, considering the state of the undercity and that you _hung up_ on me.”

“Remember how our deal was that you’d help us if someday I’d tell you what was really going on?” Anna takes a deep breath, and jumps. “Do you want to hear a story?”


	17. protocol_03.02: autonegotiation

Anna didn’t really want to give the Contessa all the details over the phone. With Elsa restricted to the local network, and with Eden actively searching, she didn’t trust her phone signal to be secure enough. Not when it was all of them at risk.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to.

“Is this the sort of thing I’m really going to want to hear in person?” Contessa asks after a moment.

She sighs. “Yeah, probably.”

There’s a string of cursing from the other end of the phone, mostly not directed at her. Anna winces anyway.

“Fine. I’ll arrange it. Expect a phone call in a few hours.”

“Wait!” She bites her lip. This is risky, asking for more when she’s already pushing her luck, but dammit, this part is important. “I...”

“Arc...” Contessa says warningly.

“Can it be you meeting us?” she asks desperately. “I don’t...I mean, they’re searching for us and...it’s not...” Dammit, she can’t get the words out right. Why can’t she not trip over her tongue when it counts?

The line is quiet for awhile. Anna holds her breath. Finally, the Contessa answers. “This had better be worth it Arc.”

That seems like the best she can hope for, really. The call ends, and she lets her hand drop to her side, still holding the phone. Everyone else is looking at her.

“Well?” Doc asks.

“She’ll meet us. Er, the Contessa, that is.” Anna bites her lip again. “Don’t know where yet, though. She’ll call back in a few hours.”

Doc nods. “Then we should probably get ready to move. Elsa, I’m going to have to disconnect you.”

_“...yeah, okay.”_

Anna can’t help but watch as Doc gently picks Elsa up and disconnects her skiz jack. It never gets any easier to watch, seeing those glowing blue eyes snap fully open and pulse once. Doc’s still holding her up, but Anna can see frost creeping under Elsa’s fingertips, slithering up her wrists and she doesn’t think twice before grabbing her sister’s hand.

Elsa’s mouth drops open in a swallowed gasp, eyes open but still unseeing.

“Here. I’m here, Elsa. You’re not in there, you’re okay.” Her fingers are going numb, but she can’t really care at this point, because maybe this time, it’ll hurt less, she can be enough of an anchor. “We’re okay.”

The ice halts.

Doc slowly lowers her onto the bed and steps back, checking something on a monitor. Elsa shakes, breath coming in short, stuttered gasps, and Anna just holds on, weaving stiff fingers through her sister’s cold ones. Her knees hurt, and she realizes belatedly that she’d dropped to the ground beside the bed. “Come on, Elsa,” she murmurs. 

The blue glow dims. The tremors stop, and her breathing evens out. Elsa closes her eyes tight, but when she opens them again, they’re normal and clear. “Sorry,” she rasps. 

Anna shakes her head. “Stop that.” She smiles a little. “You came out faster that time.” 

Elsa closes her eyes again and huffs. Anna wishes she knew what the hell was going on in that head of hers. Maybe this would get easier. Maybe she could figure out what her sister can’t say. She sighs and gently squeezes her hand before letting go. Doc is hovering behind her, too polite to tell her to get a move on right now, but she gets up anyway and steps aside. 

Rubbing feeling back into her hand, she turns to Kristoff. “We better figure out how we’re getting back.”

He nods. “Doc, you need me?” 

“Nah, I can always grab T,” she says with a quick look over her shoulder. “Go sort that out.” 

Anna follows him out of the house, shivering slightly at the cold air outside and pulls her coat closer. Right. It’s winter. If they’ve got any kind of luck, hopefully it won’t snow. She tugs on one of her braids, considering things. Driving back in any case with Elsa is going to be tricky, without the added driving hazard. 

Both Kristoff’s car and Kocoum’s truck are parked outside. She looks between both of them and frowns. The car won’t fit all of them, especially not when one of them probably needs to lay flat. “This might be a problem.” 

“What is?” Kocoum asks, coming around from the side of the house. Damn, she must be tired if she missed him. 

“We need to head back,” Kristoff says before she can open her mouth. Probably better this way, honestly. “Things aren’t too good back home, and staying here is asking for trouble. And, well, the last thing I want is for you to get caught in it.” 

He shrugs, and makes a waving motion with his hand. “Take the truck.” 

Kristoff blinks, looking confused. “Your truck?” 

“You’re taking Elsa back with you, right?” He frowns slightly. “You’re not going to fit her comfortably in your car. Take the back seats out of the truck, and you’ll probably be good.”

“But that leaves you without a truck.” Kristoff folds his arms. “I don’t know when I’d be able to get it back here.” 

Kocoum shakes his head. “Kristoff. Do you even remember what day it is?” Anna catches Kristoff’s blank look, and his brother facepalms. “Mom and Dad’s holiday dinner? I need to drive in anyways. I’ll just borrow your car.” 

And that would be her cue to leave. Anna leaves the now-slightly-panicked Kristoff to figure that out while she pops open the back of the truck to see how she’s going to manage this. The back seats come out easily enough, and the expanded trunk is probably enough to fit a person lying down. She chews her lip as she looks at the seats now sitting on the ground. There really isn’t any kind of padding or whatever on the floor of the car, so that could be a problem. Her throat gets tight at the thought of her sister getting jostled enough to flip over; Elsa would suffocate, unable to do something as simple as roll over. 

Okay. So she has to make sure that doesn’t happen. And since she’s about out of clever, time to go ask someone who probably can be. 

She jogs back into the house, back to the room. Elsa’s eyes are closed, but she can’t tell if she’s asleep or not. Sven’s made his way back onto the bed, his head near Elsa’s side, ears twitching every so often. Doc’s packing away the various medical gear. She looks up when Anna enters and frowns. “Problem?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know.” She sees Elsa crack open her eyes when she starts talking. Not asleep then. Then she focuses back on Doc, who’s raised an eyebrow. “Kocoum’s letting us use his truck, and with the back seats out, there should be room, but...” 

“Ah.” She stands up and dusts her palms off. “Hold up a moment. T!” she calls out. 

T pokes her head around the door frame a few moments later. “You hollered?” she asks dryly. 

Doc grins unrepentantly. “Can I get a hand here? I’m needed.” 

T rolls her eyes as she walks in. “Sure you are. You just hate packing.” She gives Doc a shove out the door. “Go on. Elsa will keep me company in here, right hon?” 

“Apparently.” Elsa’s voice still rasps a bit. Anna wonders if she always will sound like she’s been chewing gravel, and then hates herself a little for that.

“Back in a bit,” she says as she follows Doc out. She catches a grunt in response, before she’s out of range. God, this is so hard. She bites her lip again. Can’t dwell on that right now. Doc’s already halfway across the yard to the truck, so she jogs to catch up, coming to a stop next to her near the trunk. 

Doc crosses her arms as she peers into the vehicle. “Yeah, I see the problem.” She hauls herself into the back of the truck and looks around. Anna has no idea what she’s looking for when she jumps in place a few times, then drops to the floor and peers at the walls. She pokes at the hooks where the back seats went a few times and taps the walls with her booted feet. 

“Uh...” 

Pushing herself up, Doc blinks a bit, then leaps out of the truck. “Okay, I think this can work.”

“Mind sharing with the rest of the class?” Anna asks dryly. Why is she surrounded by people who apparently think faster than approximately anyone normal and then expect you to catch up? 

“Ideally, I’d be using a litter, but I don’t have one with me.” She shrugs and makes a kind of ‘what-can-ya-do?’ motion. “I’ve got some gear that, with a few modifications, we should be able to rig into a suspension system for a backboard in the back here. Probably need at least one person there without a seat to stabilize, but then again, there are five of us who fit the bill.” 

Doc ropes both Kristoff and Kocoum into helping her. Between the four of them and the wonders of whatever the hell Doc packed in her bags, they get something that sort of resembles a hammock of sorts suspended a few inches off the floor. Some very precise bag stacking later, there was also just enough room for two people to sit on the floor in the back. 

“I think that’s about as good as we’re going to get,” Kocoum says, frowning at the back of his truck. “I’m going to go put the seat in the shed. Will you need help?” 

“Between the four of us, we should have it handled,” Doc says absently. 

T looks up from where she’s crouched by the side of the bed, apparently speaking softly to Elsa, when they come back. “Time to go?” 

“Yeah,” says Anna while Doc just nods and sets up the vacuum mattress over the backboard. Elsa cracks open her eyes. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Funny.” 

“That’s me,” she says, smiling a little despite herself. “Regular comedian. Ready to get out of here?” 

Elsa just gives her a flat look. Anna chooses to interpret that as a yes and pulls down the covers. 

Sven jumps off the bed and out of the way when Doc and Kristoff maneuver the backboard next to her. “All right. Kristoff and I are going to lift you up onto the board, Elsa.” Doc scoots to the head of the bed; Anna takes that as her hint to step back. With careful gentleness, the two of them lift Elsa up and put her onto the backboard. T hands Doc a neck brace. “You’re going to need to wear this.” 

Elsa sighs and closes her eyes as Doc slips it around her neck. And then waits for her to open her eyes again. 

Doc’s voice is soft, careful. “I need to strap you in,” she says. “Are you going to be okay with that?” 

Anna watches her breath quicken, just a little, and she wouldn’t have noticed the slight tension in Elsa’s jaw if she hadn’t been watching her like a hawk for the last however many hours. But she forces out a harsh “Yes” that sounds like it’s made of razors and broken gravel. Anna can’t help but flinch at the sound. 

But Doc nods, and with slow, deliberate movements, wraps the sides of the mattress around her sister like a blanket. She then straps her in, snug but not too tight, murmuring soft reassurance as she goes. Elsa’s eyes are clenched tight, and Anna can see her nostrils flare as she tries to pull in air, breathing rapidly. Ice crackles and glints on her eyelashes, a network of frost tendrils scrawling up her cheeks. Anna takes a half-step forward. But Doc keeps up the reassurance, and slowly the ice recedes and her breath slows. 

Elsa opens her eyes to mere slits. “Sorry.” 

The taste of iron hits her tongue, and Anna suddenly realizes she’s chewed her lip raw. She hates this, hates all of this. But there’s no where to go but forward. 

Doc shakes her head, leaning over Elsa so that her sister can’t miss it. “Don’t be. There’s nothing to apologize for. You ready to go?” Anna can’t catch Elsa’s answer, but she can guess it. Doc looks over her shoulder. “Anna, I’m going to need to get the other side by her head once I rotate this.”

When she does, Anna’s pretty sure most of the weight is from the damn backboard. But Kristoff and T grab the sides by Elsa’s feet and together they make a procession out the door, Sven leading the way and looking back every few steps, as if to make sure they were still there. She chances a look down. Elsa’s staring straight ahead, not at any one of them. It takes her a moment, but Anna’s heart twists in her chest when she realizes that Elsa was unconscious when they brought her in. 

It’s the first time she’s seen the sky, felt the outside air, in thirteen years. 

And Anna finds she can’t say anything at all. 

They get her and the backboard into the makeshift hammock-cradle in the back of the truck. Doc ties the thing down, so Elsa is suspended but not swinging freely. “How’re you doing?” she asks. 

The answer is half a moment too slow. “Fine.” 

Doc presses her lips together in a line, but nods. “I have a mild sedative I can give you, if you want it, at any point.” 

“I’m...fine.” 

“All right.”

A slight commotion outside the truck draws Anna’s attention away. T’s standing, hands on her hips, and apparently staring down Kristoff. Who has his jaw clenched and his stance is all stiff.

“And when, pray tell, was the last time you got more than two hours of sleep?” T snaps. 

“I’m a _blacksider_. I’m fine. I can drive,” he grits out. 

“You want to trust your _passengers_ to that?” 

Kristoff flinches a little like he’s been struck. Anna doesn’t blame him; she did too, at that, because it’s clear as goddamn day just which one of them she’s referring to. But before he can say anything, Kocoum walks over from the doorway, a bundle in his arms and a bag over one shoulder. He looks between the two of them, then tosses T a set of keys. 

“Kocoum!” Kristoff yells. 

Anna can see his eyeroll from here. “Kristoff. Listen to the lady.” He cuffs him upside the head. “You’re dead on your feet, you idiot. I’d _like_ to get my truck back in one piece.” Then he steps closer and starts speaking too lowly for her to hear, but Kristoff’s shoulders slump, and even from here, she can read the lines of exhaustion in his frame.

She wonders what everyone else sees when they look at _her_. 

Kocoum slaps him once on the shoulder before walking over to her. Well, to the back of the truck, Anna amends as he sort of climbs in as best he can. She realizes the bundle is the quilt from the bed. “Hey. I didn’t know if you’d want it, but, well, in case you get cold, Elsa.”

“I...thank you.” 

He nods. “You’re welcome.” He kind of half-shoves the bundle into Anna’s hands. “I, uh, grabbed some other clean clothes, just in case.”

Anna blinks a moment, then can’t help but smiling softly. Okay, he can almost be as sweet as his brother. Wait, where did that thought come from? “Thanks, Kocoum,” she says instead. 

He nods and jumps off. “No problem. Really. And...don’t be a stranger.” He gives Kristoff a shove as he goes by to the car, and Kristoff finally starts moving to the passenger side up front. 

Sven jumps in the back and curls up right by Elsa’s feet, the fabric nearly brushing his ears. “Careful, Sven,” Anna can’t help but warning. 

“He’s...fine.” Sven’s tail thumps at the sound of Elsa’s voice, and Anna gives up. Doc swings to door closed as Kristoff and T climb into the front of the car. 

He turns around in the passenger seat. “You sure you don’t want to sit up here?” 

Anna gives him a flat look. “What do you think?” 

He blinks, and then groans. “Oh god, your face. You really are sisters.” 

She’s about to say something when she hears a huffing noise and looks down. Elsa’s eyes are closed again, and she’s breathing funny, in short, crackling bursts. Anna’s eyes go wide. “Elsa, are you...”

...she’s laughing. Elsa is _laughing.  
_

It’s soft and weak and rough, and it’s the most perfect sound Anna’s ever heard. Something loosens its hold in her chest, hard claws falling away, and she can breathe in a way she hasn’t remembered doing in three years. A piece that’s been lost clicks into place. 

“Yes, yes, we can take your comedy routine on the road,” T drawls. “Can I drive yet?”

Anna can’t really lie and say that the ride back to the city was in anyway entirely comfortable. Sitting on the floor of the truck meant she felt every bump, and she would have been rattling around if they weren’t packed up tight back here. Doc was on the other side of Elsa, eyes closed, and looking dead to the world. How can she manage to sleep like this, Anna has no idea. Then again, Doc might have been sleeping less than she has, and if it wasn’t for nerves and the knowledge about what was waiting for them, she’d probably also be passed out. 

As it is, she’s too wired. They’re running right back into the lion’s mouth, and this time, it feels like she has all the more to lose. The stakes were always high, how could they be anything _but_ high, when it came down to it? Elsa wasn’t the only one who hung on just because she knew her sister was there, was counting on her. How many nights, especially back in the beginning, did Anna wonder just what the hell she was doing? She was a teenager, a high school drop-out, and she was running and trying to survive down in the undercity. 

She did things she’s not really proud of, got her hands dirty, got her hands bloody. Maybe if she fit in better in this life, she wouldn’t wake up with nightmares, wouldn’t see the people who got hurt because they got in the way, people she killed. Maybe she’d recognize the person, the half-girl half-woman stranger, who she saw in the mirror. 

Anna thumps her head back against the wall. She’s not made for sitting still. It lets her think, and sometimes, those are places she doesn’t want to go. She can’t afford to dwell on might-have-beens and if-onlys; she deals in absolutes, in what she knows right then in front of her. 

“I...can...hear you...from...here.” 

Anna blinks, then shifts so she can lean over and look at Elsa’s face. “What?” 

“You. Thinking.” The side of Elsa’s mouth quirks up, just a little.

“Hey! Come on, I’m not that bad.” Elsa gives her a look as best she’s able, and oh my god, even barely able to move, her expression speaks volumes. Anna pouts. “Oh come on!” 

Elsa’s lips quirk up a little more. 

Anna points at her. “You. You are...” 

“The. Worst.” 

“Argh!” Anna flops back, but she can’t help but grin at the light huffing coming from her sister, who is clearly way too amused. But she has to admit she’s feeling a little better, which was probably Elsa’s plan all along, dammit.

She slips off into an uneasy sleep, dozing as best she can, wedged between the luggage and the truck wall. Sometimes she wakes up and T seems to be in the middle of telling Elsa a story. Sometimes Elsa’s out like a light and Doc is watching her like a hawk. Sometimes Kristoff and T are deep in conversation, about something she’s not awake enough to understand before she falls asleep again, feeling every slight swing of the makeshift-hammock against her arm. 

They’re not to far out from the city when her phone rings. The Contessa’s instructions on where to meet her are short and to the point. Anna’s got to hope that she’s not leading them anywhere near where Eden goons were seen. She shouldn’t. But she’s going to have to lay her cards on the table, going to have to put Elsa at risk, for this to work. So Anna’s just living on hope and a prayer. 

“Prayer” ends up being a little too apt, as T pulls up in back of a church, of all things. “Showtime, kids,” T says as she kills the engine. 

Anna takes a deep breath before getting up. She’s going to have to be the one to do this. “Hey,” she says quietly. 

Elsa opens her eyes and makes a questioning noise. 

“Are you ready?” She bites her lip. “We don’t have to do this. I can think of a different way to get her on our side.” 

Elsa rolls her eyes. “Go.”

Anna looks at Doc before nodding slightly. She opens the back of the truck just enough for her to slide out, then shuts the door again, leaning against the truck and trying to adopt a casual pose. Her mouth feels dry. She can feel the comforting weight of her knives, but if there’s a firefight, she’s as good as dead. Well, they all probably are. But she has to walk out into that unknown. Been doing that a lot, lately. 

She isn’t left waiting long. The Contessa comes striding out the back door a few minutes later, sash and black hair flapping behind her and green eyes hard, looking for all the world like an avenging angel. She comes out alone, and Anna takes a breath to try to center herself, not to show any sign of weakness or uncertainty. So she forces herself to look her mentor in the face, matching her stare for stare. 

The Contessa stops a few feet away. “Arc,” she says, her tone carefully blank. 

Anna nods once and lifts her chin so she can continue looking her right in the eye. “Contessa.”

“I’m withholding judgement, at the moment, but you had better have a _damn_ good story. Else I’m _gift-wrapping_ you for Helios.”

Anna nods again. She can’t be angry at the threat, not really, even though part of her stiffens at the thought. The Contessa has all the Black Court and those under their protection to think about; leaving one blacksider to hang is a fair trade to save their necks, even if that blacksider was her student. Probably especially if. “I do. But first, I think you need to meet someone.”

The Contessa raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Anna takes a breath and opens the door of the truck. Sven’s moved to where she was sitting, standing up and alert. Doc — or is she Mulan right now? — is crouched, looking deceptively relaxed as she stares out. Anna sees them for a second, before taking a breath and turning around. She sweeps her hand behind her slightly, at the makeshift litter. “Contessa, meet Rime. My sister.” 

The Contessa blinks, then closes the distance. Anna knows everyone in the truck is watching her every move. But Contessa glances at her, then steps up to peer into the truck. She makes a strange noise then whips her head around to stare at her, eyes wide. 

“They had her trapped and tortured for thirteen years,” Anna says, forcing the words out, actually saying them and making the truth of it stark and bright, because Contessa _needs_ to understand. “Rime’s who we took from Eden.” 

“Hey,” Elsa rasps, apparently deciding that this was as good a time as any to join the conversation.

Contessa immediately focuses back on Elsa, and Anna can see her blanch. The stream of cursing that follows is inventive, questions the parentage of most of Eden and Helios, and makes her ears burn. She then hops off the back of the truck and spins around to face Anna.

“Can you get her out of there quickly? We’ve only got so much time before services here start.”

Anna feels something loosen in her shoulders, uncurling from the invisible weight of dread she’d carried. “We’re okay?” Because she has to know, has to be sure.

“Arc,” the Contessa says, as deadly serious as she’s ever heard her, “I know I’ve let you have a lot of freedom, and I don’t call on you very often. But you and Rime are _mine_. And that should mean something.”

Well then. That’s...better than she hoped.

Getting Elsa out is easy, and Doc has the rigging undone with three strategic tugs, which is actually kind of alarming. T says she’s going to take the truck and her and Doc’s personal things back to Rittenhouse, because she really should get back to Sanctuary. Doc only grabs what she immediately needs, and they all end up with a bag in one hand and carrying the backboard rig with the other. Anna walks in the front next to Contessa, and she’s close enough to see the tendons working in her jaw. She’s as angry as Anna’s ever seen her.

There’s a priest, salt-and-pepper hair reflecting strangely in the dim light, waiting by the door when they walk in. He frowns deeply when he sees who they’re carrying and sends a sharp look at the Contessa. She nods tightly, and he hisses through his teeth. But he leads them through the church to a hidden passage near the front that leads down into the old subway system without word, and closes the door behind them. 

Nobody says a thing as they walk down the stairs and down to the tunnels. Not until they reach the platform, where Contessa has a train car waiting. There’s no driver. When Anna looks up at her, before she can even ask the question, Contessa simply says “You asked for me alone.” She presses her lips together for a moment. “I need both hands to drive. Rime, can we put you down? Or is that going to cause a problem?”

“Maybe? Doc?” 

“Rather not, with the train,” Doc says, then hums. “Here, Adze, take my spot, I’ll swing up front.” A quick shuffle later, and Contessa strides over to the train controls as Doc takes her place one again next to Anna. Sven takes his place up by her other side. The train starts with a lurch, and Anna can see Contessa’s slight wince in the reflection of the glass. 

“Sorry,” she says. Elsa just grunts in response.

“So eloquent,” Anna mutters, then gets a slight kick for her trouble from Doc. No fair. But she does catch Elsa’s light huffing laughter again, so she can take the bruise.

She catches Contessa looking at them through the reflection, eyes slightly narrowed. Or, more specifically, at Doc. “I know you,” she says slowly. “You run the clinic, over in Rittenhouse.”

“Yes,” Doc replies, easy. Although Anna notices her shifting her weight ever so slightly, but that’s only because she’s holding onto Elsa’s backboard next to her. 

“And...before that? I heard rumors. Something in the desert, near Talez,” Contessa continues, still staring at the reflection.

Anna feels more than sees Doc stiffen slightly. “That was a long time ago,” she says lowly, a hint of something dark and sharp hidden in the there. Mulan, then, Anna thinks. “That was another life.” 

Anna’s pretty sure she’s missing something. A quick look over her shoulder tells her Kristoff is just as confused as she is. And, glancing down, Elsa is unhelpfully asleep again or faking it, so no help there.

“Mn.” Contessa hums tunelessly for a moment. “Interesting. Then the rumors...?” 

“Yes.” 

“I...may have some information, on that. If you would be amenable?”

Mulan breathes out through her nose. “I think,” she says slowly, “that you and I have a conversation or two in the future.” She breathes out once more, and suddenly she is Doc again.

Anna’s pretty sure that will never not be creepy. 

The rest of the ride continues in relative silence. Contessa brings them to a stop at a surprisingly empty platform. Where are they? “I thought you’d be bringing us to your office,” Anna says. 

Contessa waves them along a passageway. “Change of plans. Right now, I don’t want too many people to know about Rime, at least not until I can be sure they won’t run their mouths.” She looks at Anna seriously, then down at Elsa. “I don’t think you should stay up top, Rime. At least, I’d feel better if you didn’t.” She holds up a hand to stop the protest, and Anna closes her mouth. “And since Arc probably needs to be pried away from you with a crowbar, I’m going to propose an alternative.” 

They come up to a door. Contessa punches in the code on the keypad before pushing it open into a rather nice apartment. It’s fairly spacious, with doors leading off to elsewhere, a lounging area, and a kitchen in the back, all done in pretty tasteful, if worn, furniture. The couches look well-used, the comfortable type that wear them just soft enough.

“Nice place,” Kristoff says behind her. Sven woofs his apparent agreement. Anna’s not about to argue. 

Contessa grins. “Thanks. Welcome to my home.” Then she claps her hands together, making everyone twitch. “All right. Rime, let’s get you comfortable. Then I’m pretty sure it’s _storytime_.”

It takes a bit of a shuffle, and some arguing because _someone_ didn’t want to be stuck in a bed away from everyone else or make everyone crowd into a bedroom, but the end result is Elsa laying out on one of the couches, Doc and Kristoff on another, and Contessa across from them all, forming a rough triangle. Anna just takes the floor by Elsa’s head, back leaning against the couch. Sven looks at all of them, then decides he’s flopping down on the other side; apparently he’s decided he’s her sister’s guardian of sorts. Anna supposes there are worse things, really.

“Rime, you good?” Contessa asks.

“Fine.” And maybe it’s because she’s right there, but it sounds like Elsa slurred that a little. Dammit, she’s probably nearing exhaustion again. “But...Arc? Talking.” 

“Yeah, I got you.” She picks herself off the ground and fetches the skiz connector out of the nearest pack. Doc’s shown her how to do this, and as much as she hates it, Anna knows it’s necessary right now. Still, she can’t help but shiver as her fingers brush the skiz jack on the back of Elsa’s neck as she plugs her in. Behind her, she hears the Contessa’s sharp intake of breath when her sister’s jacked in. 

Doc’s already pulled out the speaker by the time Anna’s put Elsa back down and reclaimed her spot on the floor. 

Rime’s voice crackles out. _“Okay, this is...more workable. Contessa. Hi. Nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”  
_

Contessa looks between the speaker and Elsa on the couch, eyes widening. “Son of a bitch. That’s how you do it. I wondered how you were so damn good.” She presses her lips together in a thin line. “I’m not really going to like the answer to that, am I?” 

_“Probably not.”_ There’s a pause, and Anna really wants to jump in, but this part is really Elsa’s to talk about. _“Arc already told you I was...trapped. I was eight when I was, well, kidnapped. Eden took me out of a burning car and let everyone think I was dead.”  
_

The words come painfully, slowly, even though Anna’s heard them already, lived through them. Contessa asked for a story and that’s what she gets. They tell Contessa the story of their lives, that Anna fled and Elsa waited. Of cold nights and dreams of fire and above all, both of them clinging to a desperate hope with bloody fingers. 

At the end of it, there is silence. Anna looks away, sees Kristoff clenching and unclenching his fist, jaw tight. Doc’s face is a study in blankness. Contessa asks the obvious question. “Why? Why would they take an eight-year-old?” 

_“It’s easier if I show you.”_ Anna feels the temperature drop behind her, a coldness whispering past her neck. She can’t help but turn to watch, and sees the frost slithering up Elsa’s exposed hand, sheathing it in ice that grows wicked and wild. She can see her breath in the air, and then hears Contessa’s soft swearing. 

“Helios. Energy,” she breathes, and Anna turns back to look at her. The Contessa’s eyes are wide, staring at Elsa, and Anna can see her mind working, fitting together clues. And her next words freeze Anna down to her soul, but not with ice. “They used you as a goddamn fucking _battery_.” 

_“Just need a temperature differential. A heat sink’s just as good as a source.”_ It’s hard not to imagine hearing the bitterness in Elsa’s, in Rime’s, voice. 

Contessa sucks in air through her teeth, and looks at her hands. Anna can see the tension in them, gripping each other so the knuckles are white. “Okay. Next question. Why _you_? How did they know about you?” She lets go and runs her fingers through her hair. “This arcology...they’ve clearly been planning it for a long time. At least since before they kidnapped you. So. How does it all fit?” 

Anna looks back. It’d be so much easier if she could read some meaning in Elsa’s eyes, communicate without words all the things they need to. But all she gets is the half-blank stare. They’d discussed this, sort of, vaguely. And once again, it was down to her judgement. Hell, she doesn’t know if Doc’s in on it. Knowing her sister, probably not. But how much does she trust the Contessa? The woman who took her in off the streets and gave her the tools she needed to survive, but who never promised to keep her safer than that. It’s a weird give-and-take, this relationship she has with the Contessa. They danced around each other for so long, a game of cards, of secrets and tells. And now, Anna needs to make the last move, the last choice. Put the cards on the table? Or fold? 

She really never did learn how to walk away from the table. 

“Because of who we are,” Anna whispers, mouth dry. “If they knew about the arcology, got those plans which shouldn’t even exist anymore, it’s not too surprising they found Rime.” She looks up, because she has to look Contessa in the eye for this, she needs to plant her feet and dare the world to move. “Because our father was the one who designed it. My name is Anna Arendelle.” 

Contessa closes her eyes and breathes deeply, then sinks back into her chair. When she opens them, her eyes are softer, less challenging. It’s a look Anna’s never seen on her face. “Thank you.”

It catches her off-balance. “For what?” 

“For trusting me.” She sits up and rests her chin on her folded hands. “I’ve been hoping for years I’d earn it.” 

“Wait, _what_?” 

“I...keep track of various agencies. Child Services is one of them. There are always those who slip through the cracks, and it’s better if we find them than, well, before anyone else down here.” She rests her hands across her lap, still maintaining eye contact. “Especially kids from the Upper City. Kids like you...either you fall...or you’re pushed.” 

Wait, all this time, she — is she saying what Anna thinks she’s saying? She can’t move. It’s as if her limbs have turned to lead, and she can’t tell what she feels right now. 

Contessa continues. “So when a notice was marked that the minor child of the Arendelles was missing from her apartment when CS was supposed to pick her up, yes, I noticed. Even if it disappeared shortly after, I sent people to try to find you. But you’d disappeared without a trace.” 

_“Because I found her first.”_ Elsa says, jerking Anna out of her spiraling thoughts. _“And I made sure no one could find her that way.”  
_

She nods. “So I know now. But at the time, it was rather frustrating. The Arendelles, they’d done good work, actually tried to help people here at the bottom. It felt...wrong, to let their kid fall with no one to catch her.” She smiles softly. “So imagine my surprise when, five days later, T walks in with the same damn kid I’d been searching for.” 

Anna swallows, throat suddenly dry. “You knew,” she whispers. “You knew who I was.” 

“I always knew. I’d seen your photo, before they got erased. Rime’s doing, I suspect. But T came in calling you Arc, and, well,” she sighs, “I was never going to push you on it. Not unless you decided you trusted me enough to tell me yourself. It was your own damn business. But I could watch out for you all the same.” 

“Thats...that’s why you gave me that much freedom, that much leeway. You wanted me to trust you.” 

“I’d have _liked_ you to trust me, there’s a difference. You were an unknown factor, a little bit of a wild card. I knew you’d bolt at the first sign of someone even thinking of prying too hard.” Contessa smiles wryly. “But yes, I knew who you were from the moment I saw you, Arc. And things are making a lot more sense now.” She waves at Elsa with her hand. “You, on the other hand, are looking fairly good for someone who’s supposed to be thirteen years _dead_ , Elsa Arendelle.”

_“Funny how that works.”  
_

“You remember who she is?” Anna asks, the words falling out of her mouth before she can stop them. 

Contessa raises an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I remember the news stories about the death of the young Arendelle heir. You were very photogenic as a child. No offense meant now.” 

_“None taken. I suspect I’m not winning any contests at the moment. But I haven’t seen a mirror in a while,”_ Elsa deadpans, and Anna muffles a laugh despite herself.

“I can’t get over the idea that they kidnapped an Upper City kid right from under their noses.” Contessa shakes her head. “That sort of thing might be a common fear down here, but...if only they all knew up there...” 

“Maybe that’s it,” Doc says, breaking in. Contessa tilts her head in her direction, in a silent sort of encouragement to continue. “If the folks up there knew, if they knew the sort of fear that’s commonplace here, that this is the sort of thing a company like Eden and Helios can do and _get away with_...they’d howl.” 

“Right. Because we’re scum. It’s different when it’s their kids.” She frowns. “I’m not yet seeing where you’re going with this.” 

“Eden. Helios. They could have only gotten away with this if someone, or multiple someones more likely, in the Fed was looking the other way. They all know. You said Arc disappeared from the CS database. That couldn’t have happened without them knowing. _Talez_ ,” she spits the word, “wouldn’t have happened without them knowing. This?” Doc — no, this is Mulan talking now — shakes her head. “No, that’s standard operating procedure.” 

“The fact that we can’t really trust the Feds isn’t exactly news,” Kristoff mutters, then winces when Mulan lightly cuffs him upside the head. 

“Smartass. But that’s the thing. Contessa, Arc said that Scratch was instigating another call for cleaning up down here, right?” Contessa nods. “That’s how they’re going to do this. Leverage it to get whoever they have in the Fed in their pockets to order the undercity razed. And then they’ll build the arcology in the ashes. They win completely.” Mulan shakes her head slowly. “Goddamn if that isn’t clever.” 

“So what the hell do we do?” Anna asks, because how can she not? It’s not right, and they’ve been tied into this mess since they were born. There’s no where they can walk away, not now. Probably not ever. 

“It’s not going to be enough to just stop the arcology and Helios. Hell, I don’t even know if we could just stop them.” Mulan presses her lips in a thin line, something dark and old in her eyes. “The rot’s too far in. And sometimes to save someone, you have to cut off the limb.”

“Tear the whole thing down and build it back up.” Contessa raises an eyebrow. “You do realize you’re basically talking treason.” 

“If we don’t do anything, we all die anyway,” she says dryly. 

“Good point.” Contessa leans back and shakes her head. “Well then. Looks like we need to figure out how to stage a revolution. Or rebellion.” 

_“Those usually depend on perspective,”_ Elsa deadpans. 

“Ah, yes. You certainly are Rime. In case there was any doubt,” she says, rolling her eyes. Anna bites back a giggle. The room is surprisingly light for talking about how they needed to topple the entire government. And a megacorp. And a secret, creepy, stupidly-powerful group. 

Okay, maybe that’s more hysteria. Because oh god, what?

“So...that’s it? We’re...we’re going to revolt? And commit treason and very possibly die?” Apparently, she’s not the only one feeling it, because Kristoff’s eyes are wide as he speaks. “And we just decided this like that?”

Contessa looks at Mulan. Mulan looks at the Contessa. “Yes, basically,” the Contessa says with a small shrug. “You have a problem?” 

He shakes his head. “No, just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. You know, because this is probably the most flippant declaration of revolution in the history of ever, and I wanted to be sure this is a thing that just happened.”

_“Yes, yes it did.”  
_

“Okay then.” He rubs his face. “Well, I’m certainly going to have an interesting answer to ‘what’s new with you?’ at dinner.” He yawns, then blinks rapidly. “Wait, what time is it? Speaking of dinner...” 

“Not too late, but edging on that time, if you have somewhere to be.” Contessa stands, pauses, and looks at him closely. “You, I don’t know well. Arc and Rime seem to trust you, though. Needless to say, it’s all our necks if anyone doesn’t watch their mouths.” 

Kristoff’s jaw tightens, then he relaxes a little. “Way I figure, I’m in so deep, only way to go is to keep swimming.” His gaze flicks to Anna for a second, or maybe Rime, before he focuses back on the Contessa. “It’s like I told them: this isn’t something I can walk away from.” 

“He didn’t have to risk his neck,” Anna finds herself saying, “but he did anyway. And really, he could have sold us out long ago if he wanted. So...yeah. I’d vouch for him.” 

Contessa stares at him for a long time, as if measuring his worth. Anna realizes her lungs feel tight, like she doesn’t dare breathe too hard. It’s suddenly incredibly important that Contessa, well, accept him. That he’s there, and a part of this, and he’s going to be. 

Finally, after what feels like a small eternity but was probably less than a minute, she nods. “All right. I’ll put out notice that you have limited access to the Black Court as an affiliate, and if you need to see me or them, they should send you through.” 

“All right. Wait, them?” 

“Wait, us?” Anna says at the same time. 

“I told you I was going to propose an alternative to staying up top,” Contessa replies. 

“And what’s that?” 

“Simple. You’re staying with me,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. 

“What.” Anna’s having a bit of trouble wrapping her brain around this. It’s one thing to know that the Contessa would rather them stay down here instead of her apartment. This...this is another thing entirely. 

Contessa rolls her eyes and spreads her arms, gesturing to the room. “This place is about the most secure place you’re going to find in the city, much less in the undercity. Access is extremely limited, I know _everyone_ who comes and goes, and there’s no way to get in without going through at least half the Black Court.” She lists off on her fingers.

Anna opens her mouth. Closes it. Dammit, why did they all have to be such good points? It’s not that she’s not grateful for the offer or anything, but...deciding to be the leader of the Black Court’s roommates doesn’t really sound like it should be that casual. Or something. 

But she’s right, dammit. Especially if they’re talking rebellion. Or revolution, whatever. It’d just take one person who can’t keep their mouth shut, and it’s all over. They’re all dead and Elsa’s worse. Anna clenches her fists in her lap, hard enough that she feels her short fingernails digging into the flesh of her palms. She’ll regret that later, but right now the pain is good, sharp enough to make her focus. 

Because even though it isn’t much, even though it’s sometimes a little small and sometimes looks like a minor disaster area, her apartment is _hers_. She remembers all those early jobs she took, saving every credit she got, the give and take of spending just enough to survive and keep her gear in order. She remembers being able to pay for the place, moving out of the small room at Sanctuary. The apartment, it was the first thing Anna had ever bought that she really sort of earned. Sure, she’d gotten an allowance for things when she was growing up, but that’s not really the same. Saving a bit to buy a candy bar or the latest album was nothing like saving to put a roof over her head. And it was things like that, the basic things, that Anna then realized she’d always taken for granted. Now, faced with the prospect of possibly losing it, even if it is for something better, it hurts in a way that she never expected. 

It feels like charity. And while she’s better now about offers of that, it still makes something deep inside her protest. Anna isn’t sure if it’s pride, or if it’s guilt. 

She opens her mouth again, but Elsa beats her to the punch. _“Are you sure about that? I’m not...I won’t be the best roommate. At least, not for awhile.”  
_

Contessa nods, even though she must realize Elsa can’t see it like she is now. “It’s fine, Elsa.” Anna catches the use of her name, and it feels weird to hear it from her lips. Weird, but right. “Plus, you’re going to need to see your doctor here, right?” She glances at Mulan, who nods. “It’s easier and probably safer to get here through the right tunnels from Rittenhouse. Doc, remind me to give you the map.” 

“Before or after we have our, ah, many discussions?” Mulan says while raising an eyebrow. 

“Mn, after, possibly. Once we get everyone situated, if you’re amenable, we could have at least one of them?” 

Mulan tilts her head for a moment, like she’s considering it, before nodding and hopping to her feet. “That’s...acceptable.” She claps her hands once. “All right, Elsa. Let’s get you unplugged and comfortable someplace better than that couch.” 

_“I’m starting to hate this part.”  
_

Anna reaches behind her and grabs her sister’s hand. “You’re getting better at it,” she says as she rubs her thumb of the knuckles of Elsa’s hand. She folds her fingers over her bony ones, feeling the cool skin against her palm. Not frost, not yet. Maybe someday soon. She knows it’s not realistic to assume it’s going to be now, but she still hopes. 

But she focuses on holding that hand, ignoring Contessa’s hiss behind her as Elsa’s quiet gasp echoes in her ears, as her spine goes rigid and ice roars up. It looks worse this time, thicker and sharper, racing in jagged spines up her arms and neck. Anna feels her hand go numb, but she continues to run her thumb over the bones and tendons while softly telling her to wake up. It’s all she can do, providing that piece of physical connection Elsa can use to come back to, from wherever she is. It feels like it takes longer this time; she thought Elsa sounded exhausted before, and this just confirms it. 

Eventually, the ice retreats again.

She looks up to see Elsa watching her from half-closed eyes. Something must show on Anna’s face, the urge to blurt out that it’s not her fault, that she’s exhausted, that of course it’s okay, don’t apologize, it’s _fine_. All the words she’ll keep repeating until her sister believes them, from here to eternity if she has to. But instead Elsa closes her eyes and sighs deeply. “Hate...this.”

There isn’t anything she can really say to that, so she just squeezes her hand gently, hoping her hands can say what she can’t find the words for. Words aren’t really always her friend, Anna’s found. But she’s always been better at speaking with her body, with actions and touch. Right now, it has to be enough.

The rooms Contessa gives them are nice enough, connected by a door. Which is good, because Anna’s about ready to sleep on the _floor_ if it means sticking close, and really, that can’t be good for her long-term. 

Doc fusses, making sure Elsa is as comfortable as she can be. And she makes Anna repeat how to do the non-emergency things, until she’s satisfied she can apparently leave them alone. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow. And if something happens, _call me_.” Her tone brooks no argument, so Anna just nods. If that’s how Doc wants to spend the holiday, well, if she’s being honest, it’s good to know they won’t be alone. Even here. 

Eventually, Doc seems satisfied that they can be left to their own devices for at least twelve hours or something. She follows Contessa out the door, leaving just them and Kristoff and Sven in the room. 

“So, you’re going to be fine here, right?” Kristoff asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’d stick around if I could, but I really got to go, seriously, my mom would flay me if I missed it...”

He’s rambling, and she can’t help the giggle that escapes. His mouth closes with a snap. “Sorry, sorry,” she says. “We’re fine. Really.”

“You...you sure?” 

“Yeah.” She feels her lips curving up in a smile. “Go on. See your family. Have fun.” 

“All right.” He clears his throat. “Come on, Sven, we gotta go.” Sven whines from his spot near Elsa’s bed. “Come on, buddy. We’ll be back.” 

Sven whines again, ears flat, but he gets up. Before he goes over to Kristoff, though, he puts his front paws on the bed and nudges the side of Elsa’s face with his nose, then gives her a tiny lick on the cheek. Which is probably just about the cutest thing ever, and earns him another one of her small, huffing laughs. Still, he’s obviously reluctant when he trots over to Kristoff. 

“Right. Well, um. I guess I’ll be seeing you. Take care.” He turns to leave.

They’re halfway to the door when the thought comes to her. “Wait!” 

He’s half turned around when she runs and throws her arms around him. He stiffens a little in the hug, but she really doesn’t care at this point. She tightens her arms a little. “Thank you,” she says, slightly into his shirt. “For everything.”

Anna lets him go and shuffles back, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She peeks up through her bangs. He looks completely stunned, and there’s possibly a hint of red on his cheeks. Or she’s imagining it, that’s also possible. 

“You’re...you’re welcome.” He rubs the back of his neck again. “I, um, yeah. It was nothing. Um. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah. Later,” she says. He smiles a bit, then is gone through the door.

She’s not imagining another bout of huffing laughter behind her. “What’s so funny?” Anna asks, spinning around and making her way over to the bed. 

Elsa’s eyes are practically squinted with mirth. “You,” she rasps. 

Anna takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and grabs her hand. “Glad I amuse you. Nice to know I’m good for something.” 

“Lots.” Her sister’s face relaxes a bit, eyes falling closed. 

She snorts. “Oh yeah?” 

“Light...house.” Elsa’s voice is thin, half-asleep and falling further.

“You’re being cryptic again.” 

Elsa merely hums. Anna studies her face. With the hood pulled up, it’s hard to see the scars on her head, old and white. But the shadows make the hollows of her cheeks and eye sockets look all the worse. Anna finds herself simply watching her breathe again, because the small rise and fall of her chest sometimes feels like it’s the only thing that can remind her that her sister is really alive, really _here_. 

Elsa’s breath evens out. Even in sleep, it still doesn’t look right. She looks so damn small, thin limbs nearly drowning in the fabric of the borrowed hoodie and pants. Anna runs her thumb over the bones in her hand, mapping out the shape and searing it into her memory. Her sister’s skin is still cool, and even though she’s figured out it’s probably because of the ice, there’s a part of her brain that’s still screaming that something’s wrong. She bites her lip, almost hard enough to bleed, and gets up to reach for the quilt Kocoum had given them. Elsa might not actually be cold, but it can’t hurt. And probably help calm Anna’s nerves. 

She pulls the quilt up to Elsa’s chin. Her hand hovers by her sister’s head for a second, before Anna finally gives in and runs her fingers along the contours of her face. Traces cheekbone and around the eye, trailing upwards. She hesitates for a second, debating, before swallowing and continuing to touch along the side of Elsa’s head, up and over the scars. Fine hairs prickle the tips of her fingers, soft new hair coming in. Anna can’t help but smile. 

“Tickles,” Elsa rasps softly. 

“You’re going to be fuzzy,” Anna murmurs. They’ll make it, somehow. She’s got to believe that. “We’ll get better, right?” 

“Going...to...start...a...revolution.” 

“Oh yeah.” Anna suspects her grin’s turned a little feral. “We’re gonna set the world on fire.”


	18. protocol_03.03: backbone

“I’m bored.” 

As it turns out, starting a revolution or otherwise attempting to overthrow the government and society takes a bit more effort than just saying so. The last few weeks had been a blur, and for once, it wasn’t because Anna was busy. Sure, the Contessa would send her out on quick jobs, mostly out into the rest of the tunnels inhabited by the Black Court that were basically courier runs. Both of them knew that Anna really wasn’t going to stay away too long, so the Contessa maintained the polite fiction by not even bothering asking. 

But no, it was a blur because time really started to lose meaning down here, what without even getting to see the changes in slightly more-or-less dingy light making its way into the undercity. The Contessa’s snazzy underground suite might be comfortable, but it’s still underground and Anna’s getting a bit tired of looking at bricks. 

“And what...do you expect...me to do...about it?” 

Anna holds back a small wince. While Elsa might be getting better at the talking thing each day, it still seems to take a lot out of her. Or something. Each set of words comes out with a kind of deliberate slowness still, like she hasn’t quite gotten a hang of how her mouth or vocal chords work. Which in turn mostly leads to Elsa still not speaking much if she can help it. 

She looks over at the bed. At least Elsa’s progressed to managing to spend more and more of the day propped up rather than lying flat. She can even move her head a little, which she apparently has in order to send Anna a flat stare instead of focusing on the lightweight tablet reader Contessa dug up somewhere that’s sitting on her lap. Her fingers curl around the edges, holding it lightly; it’s such a small thing, but Anna can’t help but cheer internally at every little bit of new movement her sister manages to make. Even if it is just to give Anna a hard time. 

“I dunno,” Anna sighs, flopping over the arm of the couch so that she’s now staring upside-down at the bed. 

Elsa raises an eyebrow. “Charming.” 

“You know it.” She frowns. “At least you have stuff to read.” 

“As if...I could do...anything else.” 

“Okay, point.” 

Whatever Elsa’s about to say next gets interrupted by a loud gurgle. Anna flips upright, blood rushing from her head but grinning anyway. “Looks like someone’s hungry again.” 

Elsa’s cheeks have a hint of pink, which is also new and fantastic. “Not...my fault.” 

It really, really isn’t. Doc, in one of her many lists of instructions over the last few weeks, had noticed that between her ice, the nanomachines, and just generally trying to get better, she was burning up calories at a rapid rate. Basically, Elsa had to eat like six meals a day, at least. It’s kinda funny, in a weird way. Anna’s started wondering if they just shouldn’t leave smoothies or something next to the bed. The straw would get ridiculous, though. 

Anna grabs some of the now-constantly-present food in the kitchen, soup this time, and brings it back. Elsa makes a face when she sees the bowl, but dutifully opens her mouth to let Anna feed her. 

“What was that face about? T’s soup disagreeing with you or something?” 

Elsa shakes her head slightly. “No, it’s good. Just...would like to...well...chew.” 

Well. What the hell can she say to that? “Yeah, okay. I can see that.” She stirs the liquid around. “Maybe we can talk to Doc about getting you to graduate to solid food.” 

Her sister rolls her eyes. “You make it...sound like...I’m two.” 

Her response is to rub Elsa’s head. She ignores the put-upon look she knows she’s getting.

Anna can’t help it; the fuzz has graduated to short, bristle-soft spikes and she’ll take any excuse she can to play with it. It’s growing in thick and almost-white, but that’s enough to start hiding the scars. Anna won’t say it, but she’s glad at least one reminder is going away. 

Anna feels Elsa tilt her head down slightly, more than she sees it. That’s the only reason she’s paying attention enough to hear her mumble. “What was that?” Anna asks, hands stilling. 

Elsa sighs. “Wish I could...reprogram myself...to do things.” 

“I thought you and Doc got the nanomachines working,” she says, frowning. They’d said they succeeded at reprogramming the damn things within two days of holing up down here. Elsa’s been even able to start moving on her own, at least a little. That’s not even counting the daily exercises either her or Doc work her through. 

“Not enough...too slow.” She makes a frustrated sound, a huff of air that Anna can feel shudder down her sister’s spine. “Everything’s...so _slow_.” 

“Well, yeah, we knew it was going to take time,” Anna says, trying to smooth out the little spikes of hair that are far too short to actually be styled. Maybe it’s comforting, although to which of them she’s not sure, but the physical touch has to count for something, right? 

“Not just...that. Everything. Can’t...talk right. Can’t even...can’t even...think right!” 

The noise that comes out of Elsa’s throat is half howl, half sob, and all parts wounded. It’s a sound Anna never wants to hear again. She feels cold and numb, like someone dunked her in freezing water. And what does it say that she checks instinctively for ice on the sheets at this point? There’s none, nothing but phantom echoes in her mind, nothing but the small shakes Elsa makes that would be bone-wracking shudders if only she were strong enough for them. 

“Elsa...” 

“Can’t think...everything’s so slow,” her voice is rough, wet and thick. And because Anna is so _useless_ , all she can do is sit here and try to hold her together as something is clearly _breaking_. “I’m still...I’m trapped.” 

All she can do is hold her, willing herself to be whatever tape or glue her sister needs to weld herself back together. If it’s even what she should be doing, a traitorous part of Anna thinks. Look at her. Did she really just trade one of Elsa’s cages for another, this one blood and bone instead of wires and metal? Her sister can’t move, betrayed by her own body. And Anna, dammit, her body is her _life_ , the thing that she’s mastered so she can do what she does, a finely-honed tool that’s better than any knife or gun in keeping herself alive. She can’t even imagine what it must be like, to be stuck in such a way. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, bending her head. She’d bury her face into Elsa’s shoulder if she could, like she did when they were kids and she would run into her big sister’s arms to chase away the bad dreams and monsters. Except that’s not right, not right now. Not when she doesn’t know how. This isn’t something Anna can chase after, that she can punch or shoot. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Stop.” Anna feels the rasp shudder through Elsa’s bones, she put so much force into that one word. “It’s not...It’s not your _fault_.” 

“Still...” 

“ _Stop_.” 

“Maybe I can help.” Anna’s head shoots up, turning to see Contessa in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Sorry, overheard.” She has the grace to look sheepish. 

“How?” she asks, because Elsa won’t. 

Contessa’s hands still. “The skiz jacks, you’re too used to being able to think and move through the ‘net, aren’t you Elsa?” 

“Yes.” 

She nods. “And you’re stuck here, even on the closed local network.” 

This isn’t new information. “Yes,” Elsa rasps. “Don’t know...if Eden...has a trace.” 

“And the only way we would know that is if you tested it, which rather defeats the purpose.” Contessa presses her lips in a thin line. “I have an idea about that,” she says slowly. 

Anna sits up straighter, uncurling a bit from where she’s apparently hunched over her sister, almost protectively. Almost too late, she remembers she’s still holding the bowl of soup and manages to put it down before it goes flying. “Oh?” 

“Another hacker. Set up a proxy or something that you could go through. Between the two of you, both you and our systems would be damn clean.” 

“That...could work. Need...something like...onion network exit...to be clear.” 

She exhales loudly. “There’s just one problem.” 

“That is?” 

“You,” she says simply, looking right at Anna. Before she can open her mouth, Contessa keeps going. “You’re damn overprotective, Anna. And really, that’s not a bad thing at all. But I don’t think any of us would be comfortable unless you vet whoever I suggest and give your approval.” 

She frowns. “Why my approval? I’m not the hacker here. I barely know how to program the holos.” Under her hand, Elsa huffs a laugh. “Oh shut up you,” Anna grumbles without any real heat. 

Contessa sighs and leans against the doorway. “Because this is the closest someone can be to Rime without being in the room with Elsa. Hell, might be safer if they _were_ in the room with Elsa.” She shrugs. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s a hell of a lot of trust for a hacker.” 

It is. Even she knows that. Anna chews her lip, but doesn’t answer. Contessa nods anyway. “I’ll be honest. I’m not exactly being completely altruistic here. If we want to change the way things run in this city, we need information. _Rime_ is the best by a long-shot, and right now, our best is out of commission. If getting Rime back helps Elsa here, well...” she trails off, arching an eyebrow meaningfully. 

Yeah, point taken. 

“Who?” Elsa asks. Because of course the Contessa wouldn’t even be bringing this up if she didn’t have an idea already. 

“Hazard.” 

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Anna feels Elsa’s slight nod under her palm. “Ah.” 

“Is that ‘ah’ a good ‘ah’ or an I-dunno-about-this ‘ah’?” she can’t help but ask. 

“I’m hoping it’s a good one,” Contessa drawls. “After Rime, Hazard’s probably the best we’ve got.” 

“The best...security test?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She shrugs and holds up a hand. “Your call, Anna.” 

Anna chews her lip. On one hand, it’s bringing another person in. Worse, to vet this “Hazard”, it means going out on a job without Elsa in her ear. Sure, she’s done jobs like that before — hell, Prince comes to mind — but this feels different. It _is_ different. Once again, she’s so damn aware of how high the stakes are getting. Trusting Kristoff was one thing. Trusting T and Doc and Contessa? Same kind of thing. They were known, somewhat at least. She had at least a vague idea about them. But this is something else entirely. 

On the other hand, if Anna ever hears Elsa make that wounded noise again, it’ll be far too goddamn soon. She looks down; her sister isn’t saying a word, but she’s holding her arms too rigidly, too stiffly for it to be normal. She sees Elsa’s hands spasm once, twice, gripping the tablet on her lap just a little harder. And Anna knows that if she were strong enough to do it, Elsa’s hands would be curled into fists, fingernails biting into pale skin, and tendons taut. She isn’t saying a word, but she doesn’t even have to. 

Really, there is no choice. 

“What’s your plan for me vetting this guy? Girl?” 

“Guy.” Contessa finally pushes off from the doorframe and sits down on the couch. She leans on the armrest and props her head up with a hand. “And what else? A job.” Whatever expression Anna’s making, she must catch it, because she rolls her eyes. “We might be trying to overthrow the grand societal order, but we _do_ still have to somehow put food on the table.” 

“And let me guess: you just so happen to have one that would fit our needs.” 

Contessa grins toothily. “Elsa, your sister’s a smart one. You must be so proud.” 

Anna can feel Elsa’s huffing laugh.. “Or...something.” 

She throws up her hands. “I hate you both.” 

“Yes, yes,” Contessa drawls, waving her hand carelessly. “Anyway, job for you. Standard four-man team. I’ll get you the details once you agree.” 

“Okay, one problem with that. Four-man team. So far, it’s Hazard, me, and El— “ Aw, dammit. No, not Elsa. That was the entire point of this. “Shit,” she mutters. “That’s gonna be weird. So me and Hazard. That’s two.” 

Her sometimes-mentor shrugs. “Take Rook. He’s free. I know because he’s been _annoying_ me, so go make him be useful.” 

Anna tries to suppress a groan. It’s not that she has a problem with the guy. He’s one of the best grifters she’d met and an even better all-purpose thief. And, something that admittedly gets him massive bonus points, last time she worked with him, he seemed to have no problem with Rime. It’s just that, well, Rook is...Rook. 

Contessa grins unrepentantly. “So, you good?” She tosses her a datastick, forcing Anna to finally remove her hand from Elsa’s fuzzy head and stand up. Contessa strolls over, liberates the soup bowl from Anna’s other hand, and plops down on the bed. “By the way, Elsa, I could use your brain on a problem. We need to somehow crack Eden and Helios, and since Scratch is a goddamn dead end, that means Alice Haskell.” 

Elsa blinks slowly. “My help? But...I’m...everything is...slow. Not...helpful.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Contessa shakes her head. “Yeah right. So you haven’t gotten used to having vocal chords again. Doesn’t mean your brain is malfunctioning. And you’re far ahead of a lot of us. You’re just used to being able to use the _entire ‘net_ to help.” 

She blinks again. “...oh.” 

As much as this entire exchange is heartwarming, there’s still one little thing Anna finds herself a little hung-up on. “Wait. That’s still only three. You said four-man team.” 

Contessa looks up, tilts her head to the side. “Adze. I thought it was pretty much a given that Adze would be going with you.” 

“What?” Anna yelps. It’s not that she _minds_ ; hell, she really hasn’t seen much of him in the last week or so. He said the holidays meant he had to stay close to home, which is totally reasonable, and she is _not_ feeling neglected. Christ, she met him only a few months ago. It’s not like she has some kind of hold on his life, right? 

“Is there something wrong? I thought you said you were working together.” 

Contessa looks mildly curious. Anna’s eyes shift to her sister. Elsa’s face is completely blank. Anna opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Then closes it. She gives up. “Fine. Whatever,” she sighs, throwing up her arms in defeat. “I’ll go fetch him. Tell Hazard and Rook to meet us, hm, I guess Sanctuary works.” She’ll be able to slide into her safehouse on the way over and pick up some extra gear in that case. And she knows Kristoff will appreciate the convenience of not having to navigate Black Court tunnels. 

At least she can probably trust Elsa to be in good enough hands and occupied enough. As she heads out, Anna swears she hears Contessa mutter something, but only catches the word “brick”. 

Elsa’s soft huffing laughter chases after her as she walks out the door. 

Really, she’s not that upset. She was complaining that she was bored, and it is something to do. Possibly more death-defying than she meant, but eh, beggars can’t be choosers. Or something. Anna snorts and shakes her head. Okay, yeah, job sounds real good right about now. Too much time underground, clearly. She’s going positively nuts. 

Her hand trails along the brick and concrete that makes up the old subway tunnels, brushing over the ridges and grit. The stone digs lightly into her skin, coolness seeping into the pads of her fingers. Hardly anything crumbles off. These tunnels were built strong, made to last. Anna wonders what Papa would have thought of them. He built the buildings, not the skybridges that rose through the air and left the ones on the ground behind. The old subway was left discarded and forgotten by the upper levels once they didn’t have to use them. 

That’s probably a metaphor for something. 

Yeah, Papa would have probably hated that these tunnels were unused if he knew about them. Anna stifles a laugh, just imagining him rant about the waste, how it’s right there, why aren’t the morons in the Fed using it to _do something useful_? And Mama would roll her eyes, not even lifting her head from where she’d have buried her nose in legal briefs, and drawl how the DA and public defenders also asked that question _all the damn time_. 

And Anna has to bite her lip, squeeze her eyes shut. She’s barely even let herself think about them in three years, and now she can’t get them out of her head. She can’t cry, not now, not when she has to go do a job and vet some hacker who might be able to help Elsa in some way Anna _can’t_. But she can hear their voices so damn clearly, just as if she’d see them there if she looked over her shoulder, just even once. 

Take a deep breath. There’s work to do. 

No one stops her as she threads her way through the more traveled tunnels. Some nod in greeting, but there’s a thrum of _something_ in the air. Maybe it’s just paranoia again, but people here seem a little sharper, a little more wary. Although they have good reason, what with Eden goons showing up in the shadows. Thank god at least that’s tapered off, after the holidays. Scratch and his buddies are probably trying to regroup or something. If he has buddies. 

It’s a watch-and-wait game. 

God, she hates those. 

She hits street-level, and it’s kind of weird how everything looks mostly the same. Same dirt and grime, same dingy light streaming down. It makes sense, really, since the men in black are supposed to be ghosts and if everything looked different, it really wouldn’t be subtle. Still, she was expecting at least something different. Or maybe Rittenhouse, her sector, hasn’t been targeted yet. 

Too many maybes, not enough answers. Anna rubs her forehead as she makes it to her building. When the hell did she get this introspective? Too much time spent staring at brick walls, clearly. Next she’ll be talking to pictures. 

Her apartment looks much like she left it. She glances at her watch; probably not enough time for a shower, so instead she just grabs some extra gear. Her hand hovers over the box of corms she automatically reached for. It’s going to be one of the few jobs she’s ever done without Elsa’s voice in her ear. Screw it. Grabbing a few anyway won’t hurt anything. In the worst case, she can bring them back to Elsa, and her sister can come up with something totally ridiculous to do with them. 

Right, Kristoff. He picks up after the first ring. Anna feels oddly pleased by this. 

“Hey, you free?” 

“I’m at the clinic, but an argument can be made for me to be elsewhere. Why?” 

“Contessa gave us a job. It’s a...little different. Maybe.” 

He sighs. “How different is ‘different’?” 

“Honestly, the actual job is kind of secondary for us.” She leans her hip against the small kitchen countertop, idly playing with an abandoned spoon. “She’s calling in another hacker. Supposedly, he might be able to help Rime with the...slight connectivity security problem. Thing is, she wants me to vet him first.” 

“And where do I come in?” Kristoff asks, sounding careful. 

“Well...honestly, Contessa seemed to think I’d be asking you to fill in on the four-man slot anyway. But, well, I’d kinda like a little help on this? A second opinion can’t hurt. I mean, it’s _Rime_. And, I, you know...” 

“Yeah, I get it,” he says softly. “Me and Sven will meet you at Sanctuary in a bit?” 

“Yeah. Great! See you soon,” she says, hanging up, and then she’s out the door. 

T’s eyebrow shoots up when Anna strolls into Sanctuary. “Arc? Didn’t expect to see you soon.” 

Anna swings her legs up and flops onto a bar stool. The few people around are mostly regulars that pay her no mind other than nod, but T’s clearly not taking chances. Anna shrugs. “Got a job. You have a room open?” 

T side-eyes her, but nods anyway. She always somehow read all the things Anna wasn’t saying and even the things she didn’t know she is. Anna wishes she had that trick. “Sure thing. You know where they are.” 

“Great. Anything new?” 

She chats with T, not really getting anything but general news. Both of them know too well to talk freely, even here. Eventually, T walks off to another corner of the bar to deal with things, leaving Anna by herself and her thoughts. When did her life become a spy movie? Oh right, it always apparently _was_. 

“Um...hi?” 

Anna spins around on the stool. A boy, somewhere in his teens and with a wild mop of black hair, blinks and takes a half-step back. He looks a little small for his age, dressed battered sneakers, dark pants and a hoodie that’s seen better days, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. 

“You’re Arc, right?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Anna says slowly. “Why?” 

He grins. “The Contessa told me to come,” he chirps, sticking out his hand. “I’m Hazard.” 

Well, okay then. She isn’t surprised at his age, not really. He’s probably one of Contessa’s kids, and hell, she wasn’t much older than him when she started working jobs. His grip is fairly solid, the leather of his fingerless gloves worn-in but still strong. “Nice to meet you.” 

Hazard nods, then glances around. “So, um, if you’re Arc, then is Rime...?” he trails off, aiming for nonchalance, but Anna catches a tiny bit of hopefulness. Interesting. 

“Sorry. Contessa has Rime...working on something for her.” 

The boy deflates in an instant. Huh. No wonder Contessa sent him. He instantly gains a few points in her book. “Shoot. I guess that makes sense. I was wondering why you’d need me if you had Rime.” He nods at one of the stools next to her. “Seat taken?” 

She shakes her head and he hops on, shrugging the backpack off but not letting go of it. “So,” he drawls, leaning up against the bar, “why _am_ I here?” 

“Weelll, there’s this thing called a job,” she starts, but cuts off at his snort and eyeroll. Anna grins. “We’re waiting on two more. Well, three, depending on how you count?” 

Hazard raises an eyebrow. “‘Depending on how you count?’ I’m pretty sure this isn’t complex algebra.” 

“Great, you’re a smartass. Is that a requirement for hackers or something?” 

He grins unrepentantly. Before he can open his mouth again, a furry missile zooms right up to them. Sven plants his front paws on Anna’s knees and gives her a doggy smile. “Well, hello to you too, Sven,” she says, laughing. Kristoff follows at a slightly more sedate pace. She looks up. “And you.” 

“Oh sure, he gets the greeting,” Kristoff sighs, but Anna catches the slight quirk of his lips. 

So Anna just plays along. “Of course. He’s the friendlier one.” 

Kristoff starts to say something, but then apparently realizes they have something of an audience. “Who’s the kid?” he asks with a jerk of his chin. 

Okay, apparently in addition to being a smartass, Hazard also has an impressive scowl. Oh right, teenage boys. Anna rolls her eyes. “This is Hazard. Contessa sent him. Hazard, this is Adze. The furry one is Sven.” 

Hazard cranes his neck up to look Kristoff in the eye. She has to give him points for not being intimidated at least, despite how damn funny the height difference is. “Hi,” he deadpans. 

Kristoff gives her a look over the kid’s head. She flicks her eyes, answering his unasked question. Something shifts a little in his expression, and Anna knows he’s probably wondering what the hell Contessa was thinking. She really doesn’t feel any guilt putting Hazard through two hard sells. Not for this. 

“Right,” Kristoff drawls. “We still waiting on one more?” he asks, looking back at her. 

Before she can even open her mouth, someone slings their arm across her shoulder from behind. She’s only barely stops herself from instinctively driving her elbow into the person’s gut when she hears them. “Arc! How’s my favorite terrifying coworker with a predilection for knives and explosions these days?” 

“Hello Rook,” she says tonelessly, somehow managing to keep from rolling her eyes so hard they would fall out of her head. Anna barely has to turn her head to see his shit-eating grin right next to her ear. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kristoff tense. Hazard’s got one eyebrow raised. 

Rook either doesn’t see this or doesn’t care; Anna’s betting on the latter. “I’m hurt,” he says mock-sadly, and this time she does roll her eyes. “We’ve been through so much, and _this_ is the greeting I get?” 

“Oh get off.” She shoves him away, which doesn’t dim his grin one bit. “Rook, this is Hazard, Adze, and Sven.” Anna points to each. “Adze, Hazard, the clown here is Rook. He thinks he’s funny.” 

“Harsh. So very harsh.” 

Anna tries not to sigh. Looks like Rook is in top-form today. “All right, you knucklehead, we’re burning daylight and we don’t know where we’re supposed to be or what we’re going to be doing.” She pushes off from her seat and heads to one of the open rooms in the back, trusting that the guys are following her. 

Hazard, to his credit, gets right to work as soon as the door closes, spinning around in a chair and bringing security measures online right away. She knows exactly how to set up the suite of programs T had installed in all of Sanctuary’s back rooms, and she knows when he’s got those up. But he keeps going, only pausing to look up when he realizes she’s watching him. “I can bring up extra, uh, non-standard security, if you want.” 

“You’re apparently the expert,” Kristoff grumbles, claiming a seat for himself. 

The kid gives him a flat look. “That wasn’t actually an answer.” He shakes his head and starts typing anyway. After a few moments, he looks up again. “Okay. So what’re we doing?” 

The datastick from Contessa says the job is a fairly standard protection gig. Somebody needs to go look intimidating during some kind of deal, so they hire scary blacksiders. These kind of jobs are bread-and-butter for the Black Court, and honestly, mostly how the Court got their rep as being terrifying. Which means these kinds of jobs are kinda necessary to keep the image up, so they can do their other activities with abandon. 

Anna _hates_ these jobs. 

She understands that she has to do them, why she has to do them. They pay, they let the Black Court do what they actually need to do. But they always make her feel like she has to shower for hours afterwards to wash away the feeling of _dirty_. They have to play up every stereotype, work for some of the worst sorts down here when sometimes she would rather be the one putting a bullet in their head. 

The Contessa also uses these jobs as sort of a “graduation”, of sorts, for her students. If you can keep a straight face, keep your cool, keep your head in these jobs, you’re pretty much golden. Considering what Anna’s going to be looking out for in Hazard, it’s not surprising that this is the sort of job Contessa lined up. 

But it doesn’t mean she has to like it. 

From the look on his face, Hazard isn’t too thrilled either. But she only catches it because she’s looking for any kind of tell on him, before he slips into a bored sort of mask. And from there, it’s all business. Specifically, the job involves some kind of arms deal over in Jeorling. Client wants a standard big show of muscle so when the goods and money change hands, no one thinks about double-crossing anyone. Like it says on the tin, fairly standard gig. 

It also means the roles are pretty much a given here, and something tells Anna that Rook being coincidentally available wasn’t much of a coincidence. Considering the other people on this team, well...if Hazard’s over fifteen, she’ll eat her shoe. And even though she knows better, and even if she’d argue years ago, she’s got enough self-awareness now to admit that she probably doesn’t cut the most _imposing_ figure ever. Not against Kristoff or Rook. 

Usually she makes it work for her; they never see her coming. This sort of thing, though, first impressions make or break it. So it doesn’t really matter what she actually can do if it doesn’t look like it. Like she said, she makes it work. But if it comes to that, things have already gone totally wrong, and really at that point, Rook and Kristoff would be _very_ glad to have her as backup, thank you very much. 

So that’s how she ends up huddled on a roof, trying to ignore the cold, on the other side of the street from some rundown bar in a terrible part of town with Hazard. He’s somehow refraining from grumbling by her side, his eyes darting back and forth across a screen with more information than she can handle. As it turns out, Hazard’s specialty isn’t _actually_ hacking. It’s drones; the hacking’s just bonus. Considering that and the way he’s dealing at the moment, Anna can see why Contessa pointed her at him. 

“What’s the status?” she asks, for lack of anything else. If she’s going to vet the kid, she needs to actually, you know, get a handle on him. 

He doesn’t even look up at her. “They’re in, if that’s what you’re asking. If you’re asking about the security on this place, it’s pathetic. I’ve got a monkeylord just sitting on the ceiling and nobody’s even noticed it yet.” 

She has no idea why he would name his spider-like robots that, but she chalks it up to hackers being a bizarre breed. After all, look at who her sister is. Bizarre name or not, though, she can’t really argue with the effectiveness. “Well then?” 

A little put-upon sigh blows his messy bangs out of his eyes, breath fogging in the cold. “Like I said, pathetic. Adze and Rook have it covered. Our client might be...” he makes a face, clearly stopping himself from saying what he wanted to. “...in an unsavory business, but the guy he’s meeting is even more jittery.” 

“You mean, our client is an arms dealer so slimy we might find his relatives in the harbor,” she says dryly, deciding censoring herself is pointless. It’s not like the guy can hear them. 

It draws a snort from Hazard, who flicks his eyes briefly to her before focusing back on the screen an instant later. “You said it, not me.” 

“Cheeky.” 

“You just figured that out?” He burrows a little more into his hoodie. 

The banter, while fun, isn’t entirely just for the hell of it. Sure, it’s a good way to pass the time, seeing as how it’s just the two of them out here for who knows how long. But yeah, Anna knows she’s needling him. If Contessa wants to bring him in to work with Elsa, she’s gonna basically crack him open. Or at least, get close enough by seeing how he acts. Contessa’d probably be a little upset if she actually cracked him. 

She just watches him for awhile, as he quietly relays information to Adze and Rook over the comms, as he flips through screens on his rig faster than she can keep track, fingers flying as they dance over the keyboard silently. Every so often, he brings her into the loop, when any of his drones pick up anything even slightly different. He knows she’s got the experience reading people. He’s paranoid. It’s a good trait, out here. Means he’s likely to live longer. 

Means whoever he works with is likely to live longer. 

That’s what Anna really wants. 

She blows on her hands to warm them a little; being a little slow on the draw because her hands were cold, especially _now_ , is totally unacceptable. “ETA?” she murmurs. 

“Unless someone fucks up royally, we should be getting out soon,” Rook replies, over his subvocal. 

No one does, and the two inside hustle their client out and to the drop-off location. Considering they didn’t really have to do anything, it takes even less time for Anna and Hazard to pack up and get there before they do. They don’t even have to wait around for payment, as since this is a Black Court job, the Court deals with that. 

So they split off and head back to...wherever. Hazard just disappears like a ghost once they hit Rittenhouse. Rook bows out a little after. 

“We should see each other more,” he says, grinning. Anna rolls her eyes and aims a kick at him. “So violent.” 

“ _Goodbye_ , Rook.” 

His laughter echoes down the alleyway he peels off into, before he too is swallowed up by the murk and gloom of the undercity. 

She rubs her forehead. He’s a good enough guy, but damn, can she only really take Rook in small doses. Off to her side, Kristoff visibly relaxes. Huh. Why would...? “Hey, you okay?” she asks, nudging him in the stomach. 

Kristoff blinks. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine.” 

She frowns. “Did Rook do something? Nothing sounded wrong over the comms, but if there was a problem, Contessa would — “ 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Really. Anyway, he’s not the one we should be talking about, right?” 

On Kristoff’s other side, Sven woofs and shakes his head. 

“Honestly, I’m curious as to what your impressions where.” Anna chews her lip. “I know what mine are, obviously, but, well, maybe you caught something I wouldn’t have.” 

He’s quiet for a bit, only the sound of their boots and Sven’s nails against the cracked pavement breaking up the dim white noise of the undercity. “He seems like a good kid. Knows his stuff, but that isn’t really surprising from what I’ve gathered about the Contessa.” He frowns, and Anna notices his eyes are a little off, like he’s looking at something in the distance only he can see. “Honestly? He reminds me of some of the kids Mom and Dad take in. Especially the ones that take a stint over at Kocoum’s.” 

“Huh? How so?” 

“I think I told you how sometimes Kocoum takes in the kids who’re a little more lost, right? They’re usually angry little shits, surly and challenging you on everything. Nine times out of ten, turns out they’re missing something.” 

Well, that’s certainly not something she’d have picked up on, not really. The anger isn’t surprising. Anna remembers some of the other baby Black Court operatives she trained with; if anything, _she_ was the odd-man-out insomuch as she _wasn’t_ a seething mass of resentment and something to prove. It’s the sort of thing you really couldn’t escape down here, and you either find your way...or you don’t. 

“So what would you say?” she asks, because that didn’t sound like a no. Or a yes. 

Kristoff rubs the back of his neck. “They’re good kids, really. If Hazard there’s half of anything like them, he’s not out to do something stupid. Hell, when _I_ was one of those angry little shits, I was looking for something to prove.” He gives her a crooked grin. “Doc straightened me out. My guess? Contessa’s doing the same for this kid.” 

Before she can do more than open her mouth, he sighs and cuts her off. “Yeah, I know, that’s not really an answer. I’m guessing, okay? My read is that the kid’s probably okay.” He stops and spreads his hands. “It’s just, well. It’s...Rime. I _get_ that. So the question really is how much do you trust the Contessa?” 

Well, when you put it like that... 

The question rattles around in Anna’s brain even as the conversation meanders over other topics, as they tromp through the streets and down to the tunnels. Kristoff didn’t have to follow her back, but she’s grateful anyway. The company keeps her from getting too lost in her thoughts, even through the cheerful chaos of the main floor of the Court. 

Contessa’s in her home when they tumble through the doorway, sitting at the kitchen table with a spread of datapads and papers strewn all over it, and raises one dark eyebrow as a greeting. “I can assume it went well then?” 

“‘bout as well as you would think. How idiots like him end up with enough money to hire us, I’ll never know,” Anna gripes. 

“Ours is not to reason why,” Contessa intones, putting down the datapad in her hand. “Ours is to do and get paid so we can leave them to their delusions of grandeur.” 

Anna pulls out a chair and throws herself into it, snickering. Kristoff rolls his eyes and sits a little more normally, while Sven wanders off. Probably to flop in Elsa’s room, as he seems to think it’s his job to make sure she’s still breathing. It’s kind of adorable, really. And not just because of Elsa’s long-suffering look at being covered in dog slobber and not being able to do anything about it. 

“And the other thing?” Contessa asks. “Yay or nay on Hazard?” 

He’s a good kid. And Anna trusts these two almost more than anyone else. And that’s what it comes down to, really. “Yeah. You can call him in.” 

Once that’s all said and done, it doesn’t take Contessa more than a few days to call Hazard in. Days she spends nearly crawling up the walls, because even just that taste of a job is making her antsy. But how can she even think about not being here, right? After thirteen long years, Elsa is right here. There’s no where else she should be. 

But maybe going out, even on a milk run like that, it’s giving her some kind of distance. Or new perspective or something. Because now that she’s thinking about it, now that the promise of bringing the kid in to help do whatever he can, all the little things that rip at her mind come at her from all directions. She looks at her sister, stuck in this cage of flesh and bone, in a body that isn’t working right. And a cage is still a cage. When Contessa gives her some kind of problem to work on, because it’s so painfully obvious that her sister’s brain is working so much faster than the rest of her, and there’s a glint of something that screams _not good enough_ in her eye. 

Anna knows what that glint looks like. She sees it on the bad nights in the mirror, a constant ghost from her childhood. 

It’s a look Anna never wants to see. 

The day the Contessa brings Hazard in, Doc is half-asleep at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee that smells strong enough to strip paint. It’s stupid o’clock, not that anyone can tell in this underground bunker of an apartment. Kristoff, meanwhile, seems to have taken it upon himself to figure out the stove. 

Doc barely lifts her head in acknowledgement when Anna grabs one of the other seats. “Okay, there’s one thing that’s been bugging me,” Anna says, between sips of her hot cocoa. “If you’re here, and Kristoff is here, then who is dealing with the clinic?” 

“Today? Keys is on the hook.” Doc props her chin on her hand. “What? It’s not like I can run the thing by myself, even if I have his help,” she says, tilting her head towards the kitchen. 

Whatever comeback he could have made to that will be forever unknown, because at that moment, Contessa strides in with Hazard following a few careful feet behind. He’s gripping his backpack tight, eyes darting around to take in the surroundings. He stumbles, just half a step, when he sees her at the table, clearly putting pieces together to get the full picture. From the slight twist of his mouth, he knows he’s been played, just a little. 

Contessa stops at the table. “You already know Arc, and I think Adze is in the kitchen,” she says, placing a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Doc, this is Hazard. He’s going to be assisting you today.” 

Hazard blinks. “Uh...” 

That’s all he manages, because it’s like someone flipped a switch. Doc shoots to her feet, Anna swears there’s a slight _bounce_ in her step, and claps her hands together before striding to the kitchen. “Finally.” Apparently, the caffeine hit. “Adze, put the spatula down before you hurt yourself and make yourself useful. We’ve got work to do.” 

Contessa rolls her eyes, then turns to Anna. “I think that’s your cue. It’s probably best if you fill Hazard in. If you need me, I’m just going to be out here working.” 

Hazard, to his credit, waits until they’re by the door before asking. “Okay, are you going to tell me what’s up, or do I have to buy a clue?” he drawls. 

Anna chews her lip. “It’s...er...okay, you know how when we first met, you wanted to know if you’d get to meet Rime?” She hopes Elsa is actually awake, or this is going to be really awkward. Hazard raises an eyebrow expectantly. “And I said she was busy?” 

“Yeah...” 

Ugh, this is ridiculous. Contessa trusts him enough. He’s passed inspection by Kristoff and her. But it’s Elsa, and Anna can admit that she might be a little overprotective. Might. Okay. She can dance around this all she wants, but she has to just take it on faith once more. 

“I lied.” She pulls him into the room. “Hazard, meet Rime. Rime, Hazard.” 

Because she’s standing right there, she gets a good look at the kid’s face. She watches it go through surprise, shock, and then a calculated look she can’t quite place, all in the span of a few seconds. “Skiz jacks.” he says quietly.

Elsa, half-propped up on the bed, just raises an eyebrow. 

He blinks and his cheeks redden, as if he didn’t realize he said that out loud. “Um, hi.” 

“Hazard. Nice work...on...security.” 

He scowls. “I still don’t understand how the hell you managed to break that. In under five minutes!” 

“You...used the...Calligan protocol. There’s...exploit.” 

“That vulnerability only got reported three weeks ago!” 

Elsa’s lips curl into a smirk, and in that moment, Anna doesn’t care whatever else Hazard manages, because that sly look just seems so right on her sister’s face. It seems pure _Rime_ , which is bizarre, because they’re the same damn person and it’s not like Anna ever saw her face before. 

Hazard is oblivious to this revelation. It takes a few seconds, but his jaw drops. “Son of a...” What follows next is an oddly rapid conversation that is far too technical for Anna to follow beyond that it proves that apparently Hazard understands Elsa’s halting technobabble just fine, including things she isn’t saying. She wonders if she should feel a little jealous, at how easily these two seem to fall into understanding, when there are some days where it feels like Anna isn’t even speaking the same language as her sister. She tries to stomp that thought down, because it’s not like Elsa can’t make a damn _friend_ or can’t have someone she can actually talk shop with. There is no way she should feel threatened by a kid she could use as an armrest. 

On the other hand, if someone doesn’t cut them off, these two would talk for who knows how long. “I’m pretty sure you two can talk shop later, but there was a reason Hazard came in, beyond letting you be a giant dork.” Blithely ignoring the unimpressed glare sent at her head, Anna turns to Hazard. “So, as it turns out, we need your help.” 

“I’m listening.” 

Anna outlines the general problem, trying to sketch over the how in how all of this came to even be a problem. Either she isn’t as good as she thought, or Hazard is a lot better at puzzles than she anticipated, because his face gets darker and darker the more she goes on. But when she finishes, his expression smooths out to a study in blankness. “So you need a proxy,” he says tightly. 

It’s not aimed at her. “Yes,” Elsa rasps. 

Hazard nods once, pulls his machine out of his bag, and plops down on the floor near the head of the bed. “Tell me where I’m wrong,” he says, very seriously, as his fingers begin flying across the keyboard. 

Eventually, Anna commandeers the couch, nudging Sven to make room. As it turns out, watching two hackers work together is actually kind of dull. But she can’t bring herself to be anywhere else, even though she knows nothing’s going to happen here. At some point, Elsa gave up on having Hazard read his code to her. He instead got up onto the bed and balanced the computer on his knees so she could basically read over his shoulder.

Between the two of them, they seem to manage to get something working. Hazard resumes his place on the floor when Doc comes in to help hook Elsa up to some monitors and into the network. Better safe than sorry. 

“You ready for this?” Doc asks, taking half a step away. 

_“As I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”  
_

Anna’s fingernails dig into the flesh of her palm, breath catching in her throat. There’s no outward indication of Elsa leaving the little network bubble, only the ping of the heart-rate monitor spiking slightly before easing into a steady beat. She finds herself looking at Elsa’s hands, some kind of tension easing out, flowing out like meltwater. 

“I think we’re clear,” Hazard announces, still peering intently at his screen. “I’m not getting any weird tracebacks or flags.” 

_“Well that’s a relief.”  
_

“You missed this, didn’t you?” Anna can’t help but asking. 

_“...Arc...I...”_ There’s a pause and maybe she can imagine a sigh. _“...is it wrong to say yes? I can be useful again.”  
_

There’s a part of her that just wants to yell that Elsa doesn’t have to be _useful_ , because she’s not a damn tool, not a thing to be measured by what she can do. Her jaw hurts from clenching it, because she bites the words back. Elsa’s not going to listen to that. Not right now. 

“All right, Rime, reel it in a little,” Doc says after a few minutes of watching silently, splitting her attention between the monitors and Hazard’s display. 

_“Hm?”  
_

“Rime,” she says, adding a touch of command that has Anna straightening up despite herself. “Reel it in. You’re operating without...a safety net, as horrifically inappropriate as that term is. You spread out too far and there’s nothing to pull you back into yourself.” 

_That_ gets Anna’s attention. “What do you mean?” 

Doc spares her a look. “Much as it was _completely_ wrong and inhumane, the pain...acted as a tether. You know how I said it’s practically a miracle Rime’s not insensate or insane? It’s possible that was another anchor.” 

_“What’s the likelihood of that?”  
_

“Certainly damn higher if you try to do so much at once that you can’t find your way back,” she retorts. “I’ve seen it in skiz patients. You’re a special case, but that’s no reason to be careless.” 

_“Fine.”  
_

Hazard’s machine pings. “I guess that’s one way to prove you’re listening,” he says with a grin. 

Doc doesn’t disconnect Elsa right away, letting her “metaphorically stretch out”, now that they know it’s safe enough. Hazard sticks close, apparently eager to continue their technobabbly conversation. It’s kinda adorable, in a dorky kind of way. Anna lets Doc drag her out into the kitchen; Sven won’t let anything happen anyway. 

Contessa looks up from the morass of documents she’s spread across the table. “Judging from your pleased look, I can assume it worked out?” 

Doc pours herself another cup of coffee and pulls out a chair opposite the Contessa, leaving Anna to take one on the side. “Rime is back and running, for the most part. She’ll need to watch herself, and I’d feel better with someone around when she’s in deep, but this will be good for her.” 

“No one likes being trapped.” Contessa props her chin up with a hand and taps the tabletop with the other. “Is it safe to ask her to do work?” 

Anna jumps in before Doc can. “Much as I’d like to keep her out of all that terrible shit, it’d probably be good for her.” She makes a face. At least she can admit that much, to these two if no one else. 

“Anna’s got it,” Doc says, nodding. “So as the doctor here, I’m going to say it depends on what you need her to do.” 

“Hm, good to know.” She drums the table. “It shouldn’t be too taxing, a good way to get back into it. In any case, there are a couple of things both of us realized we’re missing with this plan of ours.” She taps her finger on one of the datapads. “Allies and information, for a start.” 

“The Black Court is pretty big,” Anna says slowly. 

Contessa shakes her head. “Not big enough, though. If we’re going to do this, we do it right because we’re only going to get one shot. So I need to send in a team for scouting run, of sorts. Get a feel for how people act, what they’re thinking. See if we’d have any luck getting allies or sympathizers out of them.” 

“You want me and Elsa.” 

“Yes, but not just you alone.” She turns to Doc. “I was going to try to figure out a way to entice you to go along with this, but actually, asking straight out is probably best.” 

Doc takes a long sip of her coffee. “I don’t normally do this kind of work.” 

Contessa gives her a look Anna can’t really understand. “That’s not saying you can’t. The fact of the matter is, although Anna here has a lot of freedom, these people are still going to see her as Court. You and Adze, though, you’re neutral parties.” She sighs. “And like it or not, you got a name for yourself out of Rittenhouse.” 

Doc is quiet for a long time. “Lǐ dài táo jiāng,” she mutters, then drains her mug. “All right. You’ve made your point. I _assume_ you have a plan.” 

“More like the bare bones of one.” Contessa twists her mouth in a wry smile. “They’re more objectives.” 

“I’ve seen worse, trust me.” 

“Damning with faint praise, I see.” She flicks a scrap piece of paper at Doc’s head, who dodges easily. “Anyway, it’s pretty simple. Head over to Jeorling or Armitage and get a read on other blacksiders. If they’re feeling the heat as much as we are on Eden’s manhunt, how amenable they are to shaking up the status quo, that sort of thing.” 

“I thought most everyone was feeling Eden being dicks,” grumbles Anna. 

“Yeah, but there are people who can make this brand of chaos work for them. They’re always going to be there; the real question is how many of them there are.” Doc stares mournfully at her empty mug, then puts it down with a sigh. “I want Kristoff with us. Two unaffiliated to one Black Court is going to send a better signal than anything else.” 

“Agreed.”

 “Don’t I get a say in this?” Anna says. No need to talk like she isn’t even here. 

“Are you objecting?” Doc raises an eyebrow. 

“Well, no. But that’s not the point!” 

“Right.” Doc stands up and ruffles Anna’s hair. “Be ready by 1900. I’m going to wrangle Kristoff. And tell your sister she’d better not spend all the time between now and then jacked in.” 

“Hah, sure. Do you want the moon too? That might be easier.” Anna bats Doc’s hand away and mock-scowls. She just walks away laughing. 

In all honesty, it’s not actually that hard. The light in Elsa’s eyes, though, when she disconnects isn’t just from being jacked in. Anna doesn’t want to say it, not just yet, not when it’s so new and still just a possibility dressed up as a hope. It’s a sign of life, and yet not, because everything about this is so twisted and disconnected that she doesn’t even know how to feel. She can’t even tell when she’s taking two steps forward or two steps back. 

So Anna pushes it down, locks it away and puts a smile on her face in response. Teases her about her apparent fanboy in Hazard, which earns her a huff and an eyeroll. 

Maybe someday, this will feel closer to normal. 

1900 rolls around. Things seem to settle, just a little, she thinks, with Elsa once again in her ear. It shouldn’t be comforting, considering the weight of things behind it, but it is. Weapons at her side and Elsa at her back; Anna feels like maybe they can pull this off, feels like they can do almost anything. 

It’s easy to believe, watching Doc stride in front through the streets of Armitage, Anna and Kristoff flanking her. Which was kind of weird, given that she was pretty much unarmed. But Doc seemed to have some kind of presence that was hard to describe, in just simple black pants and a white shirt than Anna felt with all her gear. 

The bar they arrive at doesn’t look like much, from the outside. It’s a converted warehouse, all industrial concrete and rusted steel. The lights are bright, casting strange shadows about the wall. The high and bare ceilings don’t provide any sort of hiding spots. Security through making it damn near impossible to hide anything, apparently. 

Which, looking at the clientele, might not be such a stupid idea after all. This is very much a blacksider bar, but without the strict presence of someone like T behind the bar to keep some semblance of order. There’s a wide range of people present, anyone from hackers to grifters to gun runners to hitmen. Well, Contessa wanted not-Black Court, she thinks, gazing out over the crowd. There will be someone with...an...opinion... 

Anna groans. 

“You!” 

Out of all the bars in the city, and she has to walk into this one? “Hello, Prince. How’s the head?” 

Prince scowls, which really is an expression that does nothing for him, and stalks over. At her side, she feels Kristoff bristle. She’s pretty sure he only grudgingly steps back at her frantic hand wave. But really, the day she’s intimidated by someone like this guy is the day she needs to get out of this job. 

“Rime, it would have been really nice to know this was coming,” she mutters into the sub-vocal. 

_“If I remember correctly, I had nothing to do with that little escapade. I shoot ice from my hands, not read minds.”  
_

He glares down at her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming here.” 

She gives him her best unimpressed look, which is really more than he deserves. 

“That’s amusing, coming from you,” Doc drawls. Prince looks up, about to say something, before Doc cuts him off. “I’ve seen your work. You’re rather lucky it was Arc who played you.” Her smile could only be described as placid on a shark. 

“Is there going to be a problem?” a woman’s voice interrupts. Anna glances to the side. The woman is standing there, hand on a cocked hip and one eyebrow raised. Her expression is pleasant, well, if you didn’t count her eyes. No, those said she absolutely meant business. 

Prince apparently knows it too. He takes half a step back, but the frown remains in place. “No, Styx.” 

“Not on my end. We’re just having a friendly discussion.” Doc’s smile somehow gets wider. 

“Uh huh, sure.” The woman, Styx’s, eyebrow inches higher. “How about we all have this friendly discussion not in the middle of the floor.” 

It takes a bit of shuffling and unspoken cues, as no one really wants to show their back to anyone else, but they manage to squeeze into a booth along the wall. Doc sits between Anna and Kristoff on one side, Prince on the other. Styx rolls her eyes. “Scoot over,” she says to him. 

Once sitting, Styx taps the tabletop, long fingernails rolling a drumbeat on the chipped laminate. “Assuming you aren’t bringing trouble into my bar, what is this friendly discussion supposed to be about?” 

_“Like it or not, Prince is well-connected enough to certain...factions that getting a read on him is probably wise,”_ Elsa cautions. Anna bites back a wince. Great. 

“Actually, I’m here on a favor, of sorts, for the Contessa,” Doc says calmly. “She loaned me one of her own for it.” 

Prince blinks, then zeroes in on Anna right across the table. “You’re with the Black Court?” 

“Yeah, what of it?” 

He blinks again. “Huh,” he says, leaning back, a strange amount of tension suddenly leaving him. “Strangely, that makes me feel a lot better.” He shrugs carelessly at her. “There’s little shame in being out-performed by a Court operative.” 

Anna just rolls her eyes. God forbid his ego gets damaged. 

Styx, on the other hand, seems to ignore most of the by-play on the side. “The Contessa, huh? Must be some favor.” Doc just smiles. Styx chuckles. “All right, I’ll bite. What’s got that fox looking outside her little kingdom?” 

“Recent events, mostly. Surely you noticed some of the, ah, unusual activity.” 

“If you mean the assholes in riot gear tearing up most of the shadier parts of the undercity, then yeah, I’m aware.” 

“The Contessa is...concerned, if you will, that this is just a taste of things to come,” Doc says. “There’s talk of ‘cleaning up’ down here.” 

Prince scoffs. “We’ve heard that one before. It’s just a lot of puffed-up idiots talking. Nothing ever comes of it. We’ll weather it out, like always.” 

Doc shakes her head. “There’s reason to believe this time these promises have a lot more teeth. If the Contessa is right, we’re all in trouble.” 

Styx and Prince share a look. “She’s got a plan, doesn’t she?” Styx asks. 

“Possibly. Right now, she’s looking for allies in mutual interest to keep our necks off the chopping block, if worse comes to worse. And if that means we plan for more offensive measures.” 

There’s a long moment while the two take all this in. Finally, Prince exhales loudly. “That’s...wow. Okay. You’re not giving me a lot to go on. I’ll be honest, though. You’re also not giving me a lot of reasons to care.” He holds up a hand, and Anna closes her mouth. His smile is wry. “Chaos isn’t exactly _harmful_ to me.” 

Styx continues drumming the tabletop. “You, you’re not Court.” She stares at Kristoff. “Nor is big, tall, and silent over here. You’ve got a reason to buy into this.” 

Anna felt Kristoff shift next to her, apparently surprised to be called out in this entire thing. “The Contessa...she isn’t stupid. And her people are good. If they’re saying duck, it might be a good idea to hit the deck.” 

“Hmm...okay, I’ll buy that.” 

“You do have a point,” Prince says. 

“But I’m not convinced quite yet.” Styx leans back, crossing her arms. “Like Prince says, people like us are pretty good at hiding and working around the shitty system work.” 

“Or making it work for us,” he adds, and then gets an elbow to the ribs for it. “Ow. Dammit, woman, you have pointy elbows.” 

Anna admits she was afraid of this, in some part of her. Sure, it’d be nice if everyone threw into the cause immediately, but she’s pretty sure that only works in fairy tales. And even then, only sometimes. No, after three years down here, she knows most people are concerned about their own necks. Hell, the Court uses that perception as a diverting tactic, and that would only work if the damn stereotype worked that way. Blacksiders pay attention to themselves as a general rule. 

“There’s got to be something that might be convincing,” Anna says quietly. 

_“We dig. Now that I’ve got access back, I’m going to try to get everything I can out of Helios.”  
_

Styx takes the question as if addressed to her. “Probably, yeah,” she allows, relaxing against the booth. “The Contessa’s word carries a lot, but cold hard proof works better.” 

“You do, after all, deal in absolutes,” Doc murmers, crossing her arms. “All right. I think that’s entirely reasonable. We’ll get you your proof.” 

Styx smiles. “I look forward to it.” She nods and leaves. 

Prince looks over them. “She’s got a point. But if you do have proof, I’ll hold up a deal to get involved.” 

Doc nods. “All right. We’ll be in touch, then.” 

He leaves them be. Kristoff scoots around to the other side of the table, so they’re not all smashed onto a bench. “Well, that could have gone better.” 

“I’d be suspicious if they agreed right away.” Doc shrugs. 

“So what now?” Anna asks. 

“Like I said, we get proof they can’t ignore. I’m pretty sure our friend is already working on it, aren’t you, Rime?” 

_“They’ve locked down a lot, but they’re not perfect. Contessa’s right. To crack them, we crack Alice Haskell.”_


End file.
